


Lost and Found

by Conzieu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 8th year, Adult Language, Anal Sex, Angst, Attempted rape (Not Snape Not Harry), First Time, Ghosts, HP: EWE, Happy Ending, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Snarry pairings, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Rimming, Slash, Spanking (Not H/S), UST, Voyeurism (accidental), Water play (not graphic), bottom!Snape, powerful!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-05 19:37:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 77,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conzieu/pseuds/Conzieu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has fulfilled his destiny,  Severus Snape no longer needs risking his life for the greater good.  Both must face a future neither of them expected to have.  As they redefine themselves, their feelings for each other, though no less passionate, change in nature. But their path towards each other is not without detours...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost and found, Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fancypantsdylan and Drarryxlover were kind enough to beta this story. Any remaining errors are mine, since I can never leave well enough alone.  
> This was a lot of fun to write, though I was a bit surprised by the staggering amount of smut the tale thought it required…

**Lost and found**  
  
“Fuck…Fuck yeah!”  
  
Even through the thick wood door to the Charm classroom, the voice and moans were loud and clear.  
  
“Don’t stop! Don’t stop! I’m gonna co…Arghhhh!”  
  
Severus Snape opened the door, and quietly stepped in. Now, he could also hear the sound of flesh slapping on flesh, and the slight scraping sound of the teacher’s desk moving ever so slightly across the hard wood floor with each thrust of the tight muscular arse he could not help but admire. The white skin seemed to glow in the pale moonlight.  
  
Intending to interrupt the tryst with a maximum of impact, Severus made his way up the side aisle of the classroom hidden by a strong _Notice me not_ charm. Ah. Malfoy, yet again. Though it certainly was the first time he caught the pale boy bottoming.  
  
His legs were on the other boy’s shoulders, effectively hiding him from view, and his chest and belly were covered in semen, yet his cock was still half hard and his eyes closed in ecstasy. He was holding on to the front of the desk, and his words becoming more incoherent by the second.  
  
“Fuckmefuckmefuckme, so good so fucking goood…”  
  
The other boy was maintaining a punishing rhythm, his naked body gorgeous in its efforts, the lean muscles rippling under the sweaty skin, the forward thrust of his hips part of a graceful wavelike motion almost hypnotic in its perfection. He was perfectly quiet, apparently completely focused on fucking Malfoy senseless.  
  
His hand left Malfoy’s hip, and collected semen from his belly before grasping Malfoy’s cock and milking it in time with the pounding he was giving his arse. Malfoy’s eye’s rolled back in his head, and his mouth opened on a silent scream.  
  
“Come for me, Draco…” the order barely above a whisper was apparently enough to wring yet another orgasm out of Malfoy who ejaculated another load of semen onto his chest. The boy, buried deep in Malfoy’s arse, shuddered again and again with his own release. He leaned forward, letting Malfoy’s legs slide down along his arms, and took his mouth in a passionate kiss. He put an arm under Malfoy’s shoulders, cupped the blonde head in his hand and he sat him up, their lips still joined.  
  
After breaking the kiss, Malfoy rested his forehead on the boy’s shoulder.  
  
“Oh, sweet, sweet Merlin… That was…That was…” he chuckled, burying his face in the boy’s neck and holding on to him for dear life. The boy backed away, disengaging himself from the hug, and slipping out of Malfoy’s body at the same time. He bent down to pull up the jeans that had been around his ankles, and grabbed a white T-shirt that had been carelessly dropped onto the desktop. He gently pushed away Malfoy’s hand as it reached for his chest.  
  
“It was a fuck, Malfoy. Just a fuck,” he said, not unkindly.  
  
Malfoy looked stricken for a moment, then a mask of studied indifference fell across his features, as he let out a fragile chuckle.  
  
“Yeah, “ he agreed. “Just a fuck. But a good one.”  
  
The other boy shrugged, slipped on his T-shirt, and then turned toward Severus. The green eyes met the back ones, as if the _Notice me not_ charm did not exist. Harry Potter acknowledged the voyeur’s presence with a nod, picked up his heavy book bag, turned and walked away.  
  
“See you, Malfoy.”  
  
As soon as he left the classroom, Malfoy’s face crumpled, and he buried it in his hands. As Severus retreated, he could hear Malfoy swearing softly.  
  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck….” Then something that sounded very much like a sob and “Get a fucking grip, Draco. It was just a fuck…just a fuck…”  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
Eight months before…  
  
Harry was glad, though he felt very guilty about it, that Ron had decided to work at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes with George instead of returning to Hogwarts with Hermione and him to sit his NEWTS.  
  
He loved both his friends more than anything, but could not help feeling left out when the three of them were together. Ron and Hermione’s relationship was powerful and _intimate_ even if they were just all sitting around reading the paper. Their fingertips would touch, their eyes would meet, and they seemed to be in permanent silent communication from which he was completely excluded.  
  
The constant bickering was gone, and Ron seemed to have gained a trust in himself that allowed his considerable intelligence to shine. Once upon a time it had only showed when he played chess. Now, he seemed to view and understand everything else that was thrown at him with the same cold and efficient analytical mind. Already George was relying on him for most of the business strategy and planning, devoting his own efforts to product development.  
  
The three of them had spent June and July in Australia, finding Hermione’s parents and returning their memories, then travelling around the immense country. Harry had not wanted to come back. He could have easily stayed on working as a busboy in Hermione’s parent’s beachfront restaurant. They certainly had no intention of coming back to their dental surgeries. Australia and their new lives suited them very well.  
  
But Hermione wanted her NEWTS and Ron was needed at the store, so they made their way back. During the remaining days of the summer, they participated in restoring Hogwarts. In the evenings, they flooed back to the burrow, where Molly, who was at first but a shadow of her formidable self, needed a full house as often as possible.  
  
Ron, George, Percy and Charlie all lived at home again, and by Halloween, though she was now fashionably thin, Molly had recovered her warm smile and her easy laughter. It helped that she had Percy’s wedding to plan, and loved Audrey, her future daughter in law, like one of her own. The newlyweds would live at the Burrow for a few years, until Audrey was done with the Healer’s program at St Mungo’s.  
  
On September first, they had all been at platform 9 3/4 to see Ginny, Hermione and Harry to the Hogwarts’ express, in a riotous send-off. A lot of Harry and Hermione’s old classmates were returning as well, some planning to review and take their NEWTS at a special session in December, others to do their whole seventh year.  
  
Minerva McGonagall was acting Headmistress. She had refused to take on the position permanently until the current Headmaster, Severus Snape, officially resigned. He had been in a coma since shortly after his encounter with Nagini.  
  
After being left for dead on the floor of the shack, Snape had somehow been able to call his own Hogwarts house-elf to him. The diminutive bat eared creature had not been the personal elf to a Potions Master for seventeen years for nothing.  
  
She had doused him with his own manufactured Antivenin, enough blood replenishing potion to drown a small child, and some tissue-regenerating potion before even taking him to the infirmary. According to Madam Pomfrey, the elf’s quick actions had saved the man’s life, though he still had not regained consciousness.  
  
Professor McGonagall had warned all the returning older students: they would be treated exactly the same, and held to the same standards as their seventeen year-old counterparts. There would be no special treatments or exceptions made, regardless of what they had been through the previous year. If they could not fit in, they would have to leave and get private tutoring.  
  
Harry was thrilled. He was looking forward to other people being in charge for a while, to a warm bed every night, to Quidditch, to time with his dorm mates, and last but not least, to three wonderful meals per day. People at Hogwarts knew him and treated him as a regular person, or as close to it as anyone ever did. This was his one chance to be a normal teenager.  
  
Having Hermione to himself was great. Though they had had that time together last year, it had been tainted by the situation they were in, and they had had much on their mind.  
  
Now, he got to know her on a completely different level. She was incredibly witty, and loved to make very off coloured jokes, which she abstained from doing around Ron. She could have a terrible potty mouth, which certainly had never been in evidence before and of which he was, actually, the only witness. She, ridiculously, considering she was smarter than anyone he knew, treated him as her intellectual equal. However untrue it was, it also turned out to be incredibly stimulating and challenging. And she allowed him time to himself.  
  
He loved Ron. But they had always lived in each other’s pockets, eating together, playing Quidditch together, sleeping in the same room. Ron had always wanted to share everything. When Harry told Hermione that he needed time to himself, she would smile and say: “All right. See you later,” and go back to her book.  
  
She was also extremely proficient at decoding girl-talk for him, and explaining the fair sex’s behaviour. The number of girls who seemed to want to date him as soon as he got off the train, and how aggressive they were about it had really put him off. He had thought that his hope of being seen as Harry and not as ‘The Hero’ was in vain. Hermione just laughed at him.  
  
“Harry, do you realize what a hunk you are?”  
  
“Am not! I look the same as I always have!”  
  
“Yes. Sure. Except that in the last six months you have grown a half a foot, and gotten contacts, and filled in quite nicely…”  
  
He felt himself blush. He was 5’10” now, and had been working out with Ron all summer, hoping to get his spot back on the Quidditch team. He did like his newly found six-pack. But one certainly could not see that under his robes! As for his glasses, did that really make that much of a difference?  
  
To be honest, he had to admit he liked the way the girls looked at him. But, to be entirely honest, especially with himself, what he really liked best was the way some of the boys looked at him...  
  
Ginny and he had had a heart to heart at the burrow before his trip to Australia. She had been talking to Michael Corner a lot at the end of the previous year, and they had been writing everyday. Harry was glad he had not had to get into why he did not think their relationship would work…  
  
Every evening after dinner, Harry went to the infirmary, just for a couple of hours, to sit by Snape’s bed, before rejoining Hermione to study in the library or in the common room.  
  
While he sat watching Snape, Harry found himself talking, about the past, about his worries regarding the future. Sometimes he would read to him articles in the papers that now acknowledged Severus Snape as one of the greatest heroes of the war or he would read aloud whatever book he happened to be studying. Sometimes he would just look at him.  
  
If was not until seeing Snape’s face in repose, the bitterness and the cruelty missing from his expression, that Harry had realized how young Severus Snape really was. How could a person go through so much, accomplish so much, suffer so much and still be less than forty?  
  
Though he had intellectually known better, he had always thought of Snape, Remus and Sirius as being the same age as Arthur Weasley. They had all certainly looked as if they were his contemporaries. Twelve years in Azkaban had done it for Sirius, and Lycanthropy for Remus. He now supposed it was stress and guilt that had prematurely aged Snape.  
  
Looking now at his smooth relaxed features, his skin had lost that jaundiced, waxy appearance, and his raven hair clean and shiny against the light green colour of the infirmary sheets, Harry thought he looked closer to thirty than forty. He wondered many a time what it would be like to meet him now, without prejudice. Would he look as ugly to him as he always had? What would he be like, now that he was no longer a puppet whose strings were pulled to the breaking point by two uncaring masters?  
  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
October 15th, 1999.  
  
When Severus Snape woke up, he opened his eyes to a white ceiling. The air smelled of camphor and mint, not an unpleasant combination, and one he had always associated with Hogwarts’ infirmary. His body felt pleasantly relaxed, like after a hot bath, but it seemed to take an unusual amount of effort for him to move his head and look around the room.  
  
The window not far from his bed was open to a lovely cloudless day. He noted, thinking it was significant though not entirely sure why, that the leaves on the trees were golden. He seemed to be the only patient, that quiet afternoon, and Poppy was nowhere to be seen.  
  
She arrived in minutes though, heralded by the trailing of her long starched skirt brushing onto the stone floor, probably alerted of the change in his status by a monitoring spell. There was a gentle smile on her weathered face.  
  
“Welcome back, Severus.”  
  
He was not quite sure what she meant. The pain in his throat was intense, but he had no recollection of what had brought him here. When he opened his mouth to inquire, she covered his lips with a cool fingered hand.  
  
“Don’t try to talk, dear, not yet.” She ran her wand over his neck. “Another week, I think,” she added. She had brought some water that he drank gratefully. His mouth felt full of cotton.  
 _Another_ week? As he was sipping the refreshingly cool liquid, he tried to focus and remember the reason for his hospitalization. All at once, the last few hours returned to his consciousness. He tried to sit up and to talk again but Poppy exerted some pressure to his shoulders to keep him lying down.  
  
“Shh, shh,” she said, annoyingly, as he felt his body weaken and his mind drift to sleep. ‘ _Quick slumber potion_ ’ his Potions master’s brain identified immediately. ‘That harpy…’ which was Severus’s last thought for a while.  
  
Filius Flitwick was sitting at his bedside when he woke again. Severus knew the potion had only kept him under for approximately fifteen minutes and realized Poppy had used it for the purpose of keeping him from fretting until Filius arrived, ready to give him the information he sought.  
  
“Lord Voldemort is no more and Harry Potter lives,” were Filius’s first words, and Severus was able to relax against his pillows as Filius told him first the tale of the battle of Hogwarts, then, to Severus’s dismay, that of the busy summer that followed and of the first month and a half of the new school year. The significance of the golden leaves on the tree outside finally registered. Filius patted Severus’s long narrow hand with his own short, pudgy one.  
  
“You are all caught up, now,” he said, and smiled.  
  
Minerva was next. She brought him the clipping from the Daily Prophet announcing his exoneration for his activities in the war, the thick parchment from the ministry that contained his pardon for the murder of Albus Dumbledore, and the leather covered box in which his Order Of Merlin, First Class, gleamed against dark green velvet.  
  
She got teary eyed when she asked for his forgiveness for having ever doubted him. She told him he was needed and wanted at Hogwarts, either as Headmaster, as a Potions Master, or as the DADA professor, whichever position he preferred.  
  
It occurred to Severus that at this point in time, he had nowhere else to go. So he agreed he would remain at Hogwarts, but only committed to one year: now that the impossible had happened, that he had actually survived the war, there was a whole future for him to plan and he needed the time to do it in. He chose the post for Defence Against the Dark Arts, as the least demanding of all three and she smiled.  
  
He refused all other visitors. He did not need anyone ogling his emaciated body in a hospital gown: Certainly not any _students_ , whomever they might be (yet, one morning when he woke up he found a small vial containing swirling silvery liquid clenched in his right hand).  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
After dinner, Harry made his way to the infirmary, as usual, just to be turned down at the door by Madame Pomfrey.  
  
“I am afraid you will have to find somewhere else to study, Harry. Professor Snape is awake, and is not seeing any visitors.”  
  
She closed the door and stepped into the corridor to speak to him.  
  
“He’s awake?”  
  
“Yes, Harry. He is awake.”  
  
“He’s all right, then? I mean really, really all right?”  
  
“Yes Harry. He is perfectly fine.” She smiled at him affectionately. She had told him how impressed she was that he had spend as much time reading and talking to the man after she had mentioned to him that it sometimes helped people in a coma. She told Harry she felt bad that Snape would not see him, but he had been adamant that he did not want to see any students, no exceptions. He was grateful she had not mentioned to Snape how many hours Harry had spend by his bedside.  
  
As he left the east wing, Harry did not know how to feel. He was thrilled Snape had recovered, but felt bereft to be deprived of his usual time in the man’s presence, to be denied entrance to a room in which he had spend so many hours. He had known that, just because his feelings for Snape had changed, it did not mean that Snape’s attitude would be any different than it had ever been, but he had hoped at least to be able to talk to him. Now he realized that his daydream of a heart to heart with his erstwhile hated teacher had been just that: a dream.  
  
He went to join Hermione in the library, and told her the good news. She took one look at him, and must have read something on his face because she sighed and closed her book.  
  
“Did you get to go in and say hello?”  
  
“No, he’s not seeing any students.” Harry was trying hard to hide his disappointment.  
  
“Did you think he would?”  
  
“I hadn’t really thought about it. I guess it’s stupid, but I … After all that’s happened, I thought…” He shook his head. “Never mind. I don’t even know what I would say to him, truthfully. I had just built this whole thing up in my head, of him treating me differently now that… you know.” He looked up at her, with a sheepish grin. “I told you. Stupid.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Harry. Give it time. He might treat us differently after all. He just woke up. I am sure he has a lot on his mind.”  
  
She was right, of course. When was she not? But he had not told her that, for a while, his visits to the infirmary, which had started out of a sense of obligation, had become so much more, that he had started to see Snape in a totally different light.  
  
Since he had not even told her the true reason why he had encouraged Ginny to start dating Michael Corner again, his developing fantasies about Snape would REALLY make no sense to her. They certainly did not make much sense even to him.  
  
A few days later, Minerva McGonagall announced to the students that Professor Snape would be returning to his post as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor after Halloween. Harry felt so relieved; he had to admit to himself he had feared Snape would just leave Hogwarts without looking back. Instead, he would be seeing him four hours a week for classes. He was in a great mood all day.  
  
That night he put on his invisibility cloak and snuck into the infirmary. He watched Snape reading a journal article in bed, while drinking tea. He felt a bit like a stalker, but could not help himself. Snape’s focused dark gaze, his long thin hands turning the pages, and the movement of his Adam’s apple while he drank his tea were mesmerizing.  
  
Harry kept watching him, even after the man had turned off his bedside lamp and gone to sleep. Harry had kept Snape’s memories until now. He knew why though he had not articulated it to himself in so many words. Had Snape left, he would at least have had something of his …forever.  
  
But Snape was going to be around. Now he felt a bit ashamed of having thought to withhold them from him. He slipped them in his hand, and Snape’s fingers automatically closed around the vial. Snape was a Potions Master. Harry was quite confident the man would not drop a vial, even in his sleep.  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
  
When Poppy allowed him the use his voice, Severus was shocked. Gone was his beautiful melodious tenor. He now sounded as his own father had, from a three pack a day habit aggravated by the nightly consumption of a quart of cheap gin. Severus decided not to care, as he had decided not to care about the ghastly scars on his neck.  
  
He returned to his quarters ten days after waking, and started writing his lesson plans. He wanted to start working as soon as possible. Thinking about his future would keep, for now. He ate in his quarters, not feeling up to student scrutiny, and only came out after nightfall, walking the Hogwarts grounds. God forbid he should stay indoors and meet wandering students. It would be bad enough facing him… them when he started teaching again.  
  
He took his post as DADA professor right after Halloween. The classes were large, especially the First and Seventh years, but he hardly noticed. Maintaining discipline had never been a problem for him, even when he had been a scarce three years older than his oldest students. Even the Gryffindors now showed him absolute respect, so he never even had to assign detentions. He did not take any notice of the fact that they were all following the lead of The Boy Who Lived (and Died, and Lived Again) who had returned to prepare to sit his NEWTS. As the matter of fact he was hardly aware of the man… boy’s presence.  
  
At night, he slept like the dead, ten, twelve, sometime fourteen hours. After grading essays, and finishing preparing for the next day’s classes, he would bathe and clean his teeth, slip on a nightgown, and slide his weary body between the fresh, clean sheets of his four poster, his mind shutting down immediately for the cool sterile oblivion of sleep. It was his favourite time of the day, and he regularly skipped dinner to be in his bed by seven. Later. Later, when he’d had time to rest, he would think.  
  
Surprisingly, his classes were very popular. He instructed calmly, explained thoroughly, and expected the student’s best effort, which they gave him without reservations. It was a heady feeling to succeed in that area of his life. Addictive, almost. When not eating or sleeping, he dedicated his time to his lesson plans. He passed on his considerable knowledge and the students absorbed it like sponges.  
  
Outside of class, he did not feel the need to speak to anyone. His colleagues decided that after all he had done, all he had suffered, he was owed some peace. So they followed Minerva’s advice and accepted (some more reluctantly than others) his monosyllabic answers and his retreat from social interaction.  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
“Harry, what is the matter with you?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You haven’t heard a word I said.” Hermione was frowning at him.  
  
“Sorry. What were you saying?”  
  
“I was telling you, for the second time, that I was really looking forward to our DADA this morning. Our first class back with Professor Snape.”  
  
“Oh, right.”  
  
“Yes, Harry, right. And no, he still has not made it to breakfast. We should trade seats if you are going to keep checking every two minutes. You are going to get a kink in your neck.”  
  
“I wasn’t checking on Snape…”  
  
Hermione just rolled her eyes at him, and he felt, not for the first time that she was much too perceptive for her own good.  
  
“All right. Maybe I am checking on him. No one has seen him in two weeks. Aren’t you a least bit curious?”  
  
“Of course I am. We will see him soon enough. You know, Professor McGonagall offered him all three of his old positions back. I wonder why he chose defence.”  
  
“People always said that’s what he always wanted. And how do you know this, anyway?” He looked at her suspiciously.  
  
“Eavesdropped on her and Flitwick in the faculty lounge.” She answered with a shrug.  
  
“What exactly were you doing there?” Hermione really amazed him sometimes.  
  
“I was there to talk to Professor Vector about tutoring younger students in Arithmancy. She hadn’t arrived yet, and they have these reading chairs with really high backs in the lounge…”  
Harry shook his head. “You are unbelievable. What else did you find out?” Not that he was eager for Snape gossips, but…  
  
“Sorry, Harry. Nothing else. Speak of the devil…”  
  
Harry saw she was looking at the staff table, and turned around, just in time for his eyes to meet the expressionless black stare of Professor Snape, who looked away immediately.  
  
Did the man look different, or was it Harry’s perspective that had changed? He was pale, and lean, and unsmiling. His nose was large and hooked, his hair lank, and his robes black and severe. He was …beautiful.  
  
“Hermione, does he look different to you?”  
  
“Younger. Paler. Rested?”  
  
So it wasn’t just his perception. There was a change. (Though _she_ hadn’t said beautiful…)  
  
Harry had a very hard time concentrating in charms, and was out the door the second the bell rang. Hermione only managed to keep up with him because he had been so distracted and edgy she had been prepared for his quick exit.  
  
The DADA classroom was empty when they arrived. That was to be expected. Snape did like to make an entrance. The students came in, and soon, as for all their classes, the room was full, every seat taken.  
  
Exactly on time, Professor Snape entered, and walked to the front in his usual show of robes. When he turned to the students, the silence was complete. He scanned the room once, and immediately started lecturing.  
  
They all sat in complete shock at the sound of his voice. It was deep, and raspy, unrecognizable as his. The vivid purple scars on his neck were all the explanation anyone needed but still, his melted chocolate voice had been such a part of his persona it was incredibly unsettling. His new voice, to Harry’s thinking, was unbelievably sexy.  
  
It was a very good thing the subject matter was so interesting to him, and that Snape simply seemed to completely ignore his presence, otherwise he might have been too enthralled to pay attention. As it was, it was one of the best classes he had even attended. He learned more in an hour and a half than he had learned his entire first and second years put together.  
  
Snape seemed focused on only one thing: the transmission of his vast knowledge on the subject to his students. He answered questions, explained things in different ways if there was some confusion, and at no point belittled anyone.  
  
It was a testimony to his teaching that after they left the room, not one student mentioned his voice. They had been so involved in learning, they had forgotten all about it.  
  
Except maybe for Harry. Who certainly recalled it very clearly that night, alone in his four-poster, curtains closed and silencing charms in place.  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
Severus Snape was aware of feeling completely detached from people and from his surroundings. He felt, vaguely, that he had earned the right. Eventually, he would take an interest again in …things. Soon. Maybe.  
  
Outside of class, now that he no longer had responsibilities as Head of Slytherin House, he was oblivious of the students. When he was assigned patrol, he would walk around aimlessly for an hour or two, never noticing anyone, listening to the echo of his footsteps on the stones.  
  
As he hardly ever bothered eating, his body became an assembly of bones. He took to wearing long winter undergarments, two or three sets at a time, to keep warm and maintain a modicum of shape within his swirling robes, but his long thin hands betrayed him. The knuckles stood out from the skeletal digits, and they were icy cold in perpetuity.  
  
Poppy looked at him with worried eyes. Not needing her to fuss for no reason, he used a modified _Notice me not_ spell around her, and she forgot to even look at him.  
  
The snow came. The castle was marvellously peaceful for two weeks during the Yule break. He slept almost constantly in that period (recuperating, he told himself, for years of insomnia, forced or otherwise). Only a handful of students had stayed over the holidays, and it would have been awkward to be stuck socializing with him… them.  
  
When not sleeping, he worked on his lessons in his rooms. The new term started, and he focused on teaching, and nothing else. It was demanding enough and he slept enough that he could not spare time for anything else.  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
After years of being angry for being singled out by Snape in every class he taught, Harry now would have given just about anything to catch the man’s attention. If he raised his hand in class he received as complete and as nonjudgmental answer as anyone else, never managing to even make eye contact.  
  
As a result, he watched Snape constantly and noticed everything about him. He noticed that he hardly came to any meals, and that when he did he ate practically nothing. He noticed him going from lean and pale, to thin and pale, to emaciated and pale, only to note that suddenly one morning he seemed to fill his robes again. He might have been fooled, except for the man’s hands. They had always been long and elegant. Now, they were skeletal. How could no one else notice?  
  
He mentioned it to Hermione. She looked at Snape and shrugged. “He has always been on the skinny side, Harry.”  
  
He noticed that Snape never spoke to anyone. Not to the students outside of class, not to the teachers at the faculty table.  
  
“You don’t know that Harry, you don’t know what he does in his own time.”  
  
Except that Harry did know, because he stared at Snape’s name on the Marauder’s map for hours on end. He was always alone in his quarters, unmoving. Harry followed him on his patrol, not even trying very hard to be quiet, and Snape never saw him, hardly ever looking up from the ground.  
What was wrong with him? It was as if the only thing left of the man he had been was an empty shell. Only in his teaching did he show any life, but as soon as he left the classroom, the light in his eyes died, and he seemed to disappear. Harry did not know what to make of it.  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
January 7, 2000  
  
Severus was pushing scrambled eggs around his plate at breakfast one morning when the first owl arrived. It was small and brown, and dropped a folded piece of parchment on top of his uneaten dry toast. His name was on the outside in a very elegant cursive. He opened it. There was only one sentence, which dragged him abruptly from his dreamy state into reality.  
  
“Eat, you git!”  
  
As he looked up and around, to try and get a clue as to the author of the note, he noticed for the first time in weeks the hubbub of student conversations, the smell of bacon, the presence of Flitwick reading the paper by his side.  
  
Draco Malfoy was staring at him, but blushed and turned away when their eyes met. The boy had confessed to having inappropriate feelings for him almost two years before, when they had been forced to hide together by circumstances. Could he still be carrying a torch? Fool.  
  
The weak and insipid child had held no interest for him, his washed out looks and imbecilic upbringing being no redeeming value. Draco never would have written such a note. He would never have noticed that Severus was not eating since it had no immediate bearing on him. Draco’s world pertained to Draco only, with no exception.  
  
No one else seemed to be paying him any attention, neither student nor faculty. He read the note again, wondering vaguely why he had not been eating, but could not bother dwelling on it when the answer did not immediately come to mind.  
  
He reached for a rasher of bacon, and tasted it gingerly. The richness of the flavours almost overwhelmed his brain, and he closed his eyes to enjoy the contrast of crunchy with chewy, salty with smoky. He helped himself to a serving of button mushrooms, spongy and elastic in his mouth (like the head of a cock, a thought which made him snort in a very undignified way), and half a tomato, tangy and delicious. He took a deep breath, and met Flitwick’s questioning glance with a shrug.  
  
“The bacon is good today,” he said.  
  
Flitwick’s smile was completely disproportionate to the triviality of the comment.  
  
“It is, isn’t it?” replied the small man. He seemed about to say something else, but held back. He had the look of someone trying to figure out how to pet a unicorn, afraid to spook it.  
  
“Hm… How are your classes, Filius?” added Severus, aware he had hardly said a word to the man since their one sided conversation in the infirmary.  
  
Once again, the warmth behind the Charms teacher’s reaction surprised him.  
  
“Very good, Severus, Thank you.” And as he had done in the infirmary, Flitwick patted his hand, his touch very warm. Before Severus had time to react, the diminutive man seemed to realize what he was doing and pulled his hand back, but the fondness remained in his eyes and smile.  
  
“Yours, Severus?”  
  
“Remarkably well, thank-you.”  
  
“I am so glad,” said Flitwick. He stood up. The bell would ring in a few minutes.  
  
“I will see you at lunch?” he asked.  
  
“Of course,” replied Severus. He never missed lunch. It was a strange thing for Filius to ask, yet the small man beamed at his reply.  
  
“Good, good,” he said. And with one last smile, hurried off to class.  
  
Severus reflected that he had not spoken a word to anyone outside of class for months, and that it might have been keenly felt by those who still considered him a friend. He shrugged again, and made for his classroom, the note the owl had brought clutched tightly in his hand.  
  
He left his office for his quarters at 6:00 pm, only to find another note stuck to the outside of his heavily warded door, protected by a _Your eyes only_ charm.  
  
“Come to dinner.” He collected the note and put it in his pocket.  
  
Jostled out of his complacency, and since he still had not taken the time to figure out why he had not been eating, he made his way to the Great Hall, and forced himself to try some soup, which was delicious, and eat a thick slice of freshly baked bread. Pudding was Treacle tart, which he despised. He was about to leave when a small dish of dark chocolate mousse appeared in front of him. That, he could not resist, especially since it contained candied orange peel shavings. He had to stop himself from licking the bowl.  
  
“Nice to see you enjoying your dessert,” commented Flitwick, kindly. Severus wondered if Filius was responsible for the notes, but decided the secrecy was not in his nature.  
  
“My favourite,” he responded. “The elves usually only make it at Christmas.”  
  
“Well, someone knows what you like.” Flitwick seemed inordinately pleased by that thought. He looked once again as if he was about to say more, but changed his mind. “Good evening, Severus.”  
  
“Good evening.”  
  
Returning to his quarters, he was surprised to find yet another note on his door.  
  
“It’s only seven. Too early for bed. Go brew something.”  
  
Though the thought of “brewing something” for the first time in months held incredible appeal, Severus was annoyed by the presumptuousness of his unknown correspondent. He ripped the note off the door in a huff, went in, and was in bed thirty minutes later.  
  
Surprisingly, the mindless oblivion he had come to cherish did not overtake him instantly. Instead, he tossed and turned, finally spelling his reading light on and picking up a book from his bedside table. It was a biography of Rudolf Nureyev, a Muggle classical ballet dancer, which he had not looked at since before his encounter with Nagini. He finished the book by 11:00pm, shut off the light and immediately fell asleep.  
  
He woke up the next day, feeling refreshed. At breakfast, Filius seemed glad to share his newspaper with him. He had a free hour before the seventh year defence, and went to see Poppy to offer his brewing services. She was thrilled. The new potions teacher’s Dreamless Sleep and Skelegrow left much to be desired, and could he brew Wolfsbane for one of the students who had ran afoul of Greyback the previous year?  
  
The seventh year class had Slytherins and Gryffindors. He had never paid attention to the fact that, during practicals, they partnered within their own houses.  
  
He reorganized them, pairing all the Slytherins, who were a minority, with Gryffindors. Afterwards he actually questioned his decision rather feeling as if he was back teaching potions, watching out for potential explosions.  
  
Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter were particularly interesting to observe, Draco’s greater experience from years of private tutoring in duelling over the summers, and his willingness to use painful spells were an interesting match to Potter’s greater power and agility, as well as inventiveness.  
  
Both were able to cast wordlessly, but after a few minutes, he realized Potter was also casting an occasional wandless spell at the same time as a traditional one, throwing Draco off his game. But Draco was fast, and ruthless. The duel ended when Potter’s wand arm was disconnected, and fell bloodless and useless, at his feet.  
  
Potter’s expression was priceless, but he grinned ruefully at Malfoy as Severus reattached the limb.  
  
“I guess I should be grateful it wasn’t my bits!”  
  
To which Draco answered, not without spirit, “What would be the point to remove a body part you never use?”  
  
“Hope springs eternal,” answered Potter, shrugging. They both laughed at that, and Severus felt pairing them up had been a good idea after all. He tried not to read too much (or get any pleasure) at what the conversation had revealed about the students’ love life (or lack thereof).  
  
That evening, after dinner, Severus brewed for four hours, and went to bed feeling accomplished and optimistic. He wondered at the apathy he had felt in the past months, and felt a surge of gratefulness to the author of the notes.  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
For days, Harry had observed Snape and wondered what to do. It seemed that he was the only one noticing how bad the Professor had gotten, and the only one concerned about it. Snape looked more and more like a ghost, and Harry could not stand the thought of losing him, without ever having had a chance to talk to him, thank him, and see if his… infatuation was based on anything other than fantasy.  
  
On a day when he had arrived early for breakfast, he watched for half an hour as Snape just sat there, oblivious to his surrounding, pushing his uneaten food around the plate. He suddenly felt resentful and angry. He wrote a few words on a piece of parchment, and not giving himself time to reconsider, ran to the owlery.  
  
He returned just in time to enter the Great Hall with a yawning Hermione, and sit back at the now full table as if he had not been there before. His heart raced when he saw the small brown owl he had selected for the job drop the note on Snape’s plate.  
  
Reading the note, Snape frowned and seemed to focus for the first time in weeks. As soon as the professor started looking around, beginning, not surprisingly, at the Slytherin table, Harry absorbed himself in conversation with Hermione.  
  
Minutes later, he looked up at the staff table again to see Snape munching on a rasher of bacon and exchanging a few words with Flitwick. Harry could not help but smile, and immediately started to plan his next move.  
  
Harry had been prepared for a long drawn out campaign, and was shocked to realize, after his third note, and only a short visit to the kitchen to suggest the elves cater for a while to Snape’s preferences, how little it took to succeed in bringing the man back to himself. Maybe Harry had been wrong and had only imagine the situation had been as bad as all that.  
  
He actually wished briefly that he had not messed with a good thing when Snape started pairing him with Malfoy for each DADA practical, but it was short lived. Malfoy turned out to be a challenging opponent, the only one Harry had to work hard to duel with, and his skills improved tremendously.  
  
Malfoy and he had reached some kind of unspoken understanding and now treated each other cordially. Of the previous years bloodletting, only mild, innocuous ribbing remained.  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
During the following weeks, though he still felt no compunction to think about the past, or plan his future, Severus at least started living again in the present. He ate regular meals, read the newspaper, discussed current events with Filius, and played the occasional chess game with Vector.  
  
He was self aware enough to recognize that without his roles as an active Death Eater, a spy, and an irreplaceable asset to the side of the light, his self-identification was undergoing a serious crisis, but he no longer let it overwhelm him. He was learning instead to accept himself as an excellent teacher, and a friend to his fellow faculty members. He tried not to panic on the few occasions where he felt completely at sea.  
  
He did not pay any particular attention to _any_ of the students, nor was particularly pleased by the fact that _some_ of them showed great improvement in their abilities, now beating their opponents at duelling more often than not.  
  
He did start paying closer attention during his scheduled rounds, catching many a seventh year in romantic entanglements. He did not reflect on the pinch of anxiety he felt every time he saw the shadows of couples in the different hiding places they favoured.  
  
The students were amazed at how understanding he seemed, and he did not acknowledge that the indulgence with which he would just send the students back to their common room (to their grateful surprise), was tinged with relief.  
  
To Draco Malfoy’s disappointment, if his pout was anything to go by, Severus certainly did not seem to care that he caught the young man several times in very compromising situations. After a moment of tension, and as soon as he identified Malfoy’s partners, he seemed more amused than anything else, sending them away with nothing more than mild chastisement.  
  
Almost two months after its first appearance, the small brown owl was back. The message was short, but touched Severus in a way he was unprepared for.  
  
“You seem better. I’m so glad.”  
  
He had given the owl a piece of bacon. Now he asked him to wait as he quickly jotted a note on the reverse of the parchment.  
  
“I am. Thank you. Why?”  
  
Why did you notice? Why did you care? Why did you bother? Why are you glad? The question was all encompassing.  
  
Loaded with its message, the small bird flew back out of the window, giving Severus no clue as to the sender.  
  
There was an envelope on the floor of his quarters that night, which had evidently been pushed under his door. It should have been impossible with his wards intact. Yet, there it was.  
  
Severus,  
I do not have leave to use your given name, but considering I have already called you a git, I hope you will forgive me. I love the sound of it, when I speak it aloud.  
  
Why, you asked.  
  
Because I do not seem to be able to help watching you.  
  
Because I did not like the way your dark and forbidding presence was fading away.  
  
Because I missed the glint in your eyes. Though it so often was vicious in the past, even that would have been better than the awful flatness that had taken its place.  
  
Because I love the elegance of your walk and the way your hands dance when you teach, and I was afraid to lose them.  
  
Because though your old voice was beautiful and did sound like melted chocolate, your new voice drives me to distraction and sends shivers down my spine.  
  
All of them entirely selfish reasons I hope you will forgive.  
  
The note, alarming in its contents and what they revealed, was written in that beautiful cursive. It was unsigned, but obviously came from a student. The faculty had leave to call him by his given name, and would not refer to his teaching. It was not Malfoy’s handwriting, nor did the request for forgiveness sound like something Malfoy would ever feel he needed.  
  
The handwriting and the sentiments seemed to point to a female student (hopefully a seventh year). Millicent Bulstrode? One of the Patils? Luna Lovegood? Miss Granger perhaps. She might be observant enough, and thoughtful enough. All of the possibilities were equally disturbing.  
  
Whoever it was, it would behove Severus to nip the type of… admiration the letter represented in the bud, students being definitely out of bound, and female students not the least to his taste. He wondered how he could communicate back.  
  
He decided to write on the reverse of the note, and stick it to his door, with the same _Your eyes only_ charm that had been used before, keyed to the original writer.  
  
He sat at his desk, and quickly jotted down what he hoped would be a sufficiently gracious yet very firm response as to what he believed to be inappropriate feelings.  
  
Miss,  
  
Though I am not unappreciative of your efforts on my behalf, and thank you for your help, it seems essential at this point that I should inform you of my absolute lack of personal interest in any of my students.  
  
In that spirit, though I would grant to you the need to use such an appellation as “Git” to reach me through my lethargy, I will deny you the familiarity of the use of my first name.  
  
Now that you have succeeded in your attempts at penetrating my apathy, I can only advise you in the strongest possible manner to redirect your attention and interest elsewhere, ideally to one of your fellow students.  
  
In your debt,  
SS  
  
He was pleased with the results. He was indeed very grateful that someone had noticed and actively done something to shake his depression, but a romantic entanglement with a young woman he did not need. That thought was accompanied by an involuntary shudder.  
  
His name, on the letter the small brown owl dropped on his plate the next morning, was written in a spiky hand that closely resembled his own.  
  
Git, it said,  
Far from me to use your given name once denied the familiarity!  
Dictaquills offer a wide range of possible calligraphy, the cursive you obviously thought of as feminine being only one of them. I hope this new handwriting will leave you in no doubt as to my gender.  
  
The amazing thing about students is that, once they sit their NEWTs, they are students no more.  
Hopefully it is something we can both look forward to.  
  
Respectfully yours.  
  
Though he really felt he should have met such a letter with total disapproval, Severus was amused by it, and could not hold back a chuckle.  
  
“Good new, my friend?” inquired Filius.  
  
“Not bad news, certainly. Food for thought,” replied Severus, honestly.  
  
That night, after dinner, he sat by the fire, a (small) snifter of brandy in his hand (it had, after all, been months since he had last indulged) and reread the note, denying the fact that he was trying to recall exactly what the letter slipped under his door a few days before had actually said. Whatever it was, it had been highly inappropriate, and he absolutely and unequivocally disapproved. Yes. Absolutely and unequivocally.  
  
He was perfectly able to separate how grateful he was to his correspondent for interrupting his pathological descent into self-oblivion, from how completely disapproving he was of the student’s (Seventh year student, and male at least, thank Merlin!) unsuitable feelings, and his nerve. “Respectfully” indeed. He decided to throw the note in the fire. His aim was so poor, it landed, carefully folded in half, in his desk’s top drawer. Right next to the list of seventh year students, from which the girls had been magically removed. And which he _hardly_ ever looked at. And on which four or five names were circled.  
  
It was partially because his name was _not_ circled on that list (since sadly, as far as Snape could tell from reading the Prophet, Potter was as good as engaged to the youngest Weasley) and because, after all, the brat _had_ managed to rid the world of the Dark Lord, that, on the first evening of the Easter holidays, when Potter knocked on the door to his office, he let him in instead of sending him packing.  
  
Potter must have sensed he was admitted on sufferance, for his behaviour was exemplary.  
  
“Thank you for seeing me, Professor.”  
  
“To what do I owe the …pleasure?”  
  
“I… I have been meaning to talk to you for some time, but the occasion has never presented itself. I want to thank you, for all you have done for me through the years, and apologize.”  
  
“Apologize? Whatever for?”  
  
“For doubting you, again and again, as a member of the Order of the Phoenix. For not showing you the proper respect as one of my Professors. For making your life even more taxing than it had to be through my carelessness, and through my thoughtless behaviour. For not understanding that your attitude towards me was in great part dictated by the role you played. For invading your privacy.”  
  
Well, that certainly covered a lot. Severus begrudgingly admitted to himself that it was well said.  
“I see. Apology accepted, Potter. Anything else?” If the brat expected him to reciprocate, he had another thing coming.  
  
“Huh… No. Not really.”  
  
“Then, thank you, and good night.” Snape held the door to his quarters opened for the bewildered youth.  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
Standing in front of Snape’s quarters, Harry felt completely let down. That had not gone at all as he had imagined. He had somehow hoped to get invited to sit, maybe given a cuppa. He was such a fool.  
What could Snape possibly have to say to him?  
  
The Professor had looked good. His hands no longer looked like those of a skeleton. His skin was still pale, but healthy looking, without the sickly yellow tinge it used to have. His hair was still greasy, but who cared? If nothing else the entire episode had confirmed to Harry that he indeed sported a terrific crush for Snape. Was there anything he could do to get Snape to look at him as a man instead of as an annoying student? He pondered the possibilities, or lack thereof, all the way back to the tower.  
  
“What’s the matter Harry? You look a little pale.”  
  
Harry dropped onto the sofa next to where Hermione was reading. He needed to talk about this to _someone_. And who better than his best friend?  
  
“Hermione, last summer, I… I’ve realized something about myself. I hope it won’t make a difference to you, that we can still be friends.”  
  
“Harry, you could realize you’re a vampire and we would still be friends, though I would probably start wearing turtlenecks a lot more often.”  
  
Harry chuckled. “Thanks. No turtlenecks necessary. I find I’m… Well, I’m not attracted to girls so much. Boys, on the other hand…”  
  
She smiled at him. “Ron told me. He thought you might have realized you swung that way in Australia, when we were taking those surfing lessons. He thought it was curious how quickly you seemed to get the hang of it when you had a lesson with Kathleen, but that when David was your teacher, you needed to lean on him a lot and you had a really hard time getting back on the board when you fell in, needing to hang onto him an awful lot…”  
  
Harry blushed, and grinned, embarrassed. “Ron figured it out? I thought he was oblivious… Yeah, David’s lessons taught me more about myself than about surfing. We even had a couple of remedial sessions in the surf storage hut, when we hand waxed more than the boards…”  
  
Hermione sighed dreamily. “Mmm… Nice images… He was pretty hot, I must admit. And you’re gorgeous. I wish I could have peeked.”  
  
“Hermione!” exclaimed Harry in a false chastising tone.  
  
“Yes? Were you talking to me?” she said, pretending to be brutally brought back from a daydream, fanning herself with her hand. They both cracked up, but she sobered quickly.  
  
“So, why are you telling me now?”  
  
“I… I’ve kind of fallen for someone. I have no idea if he even plays on that team, and he certainly is completely oblivious of my... attraction.” Harry sighed. “How does one find out if someone is gay or not?”  
  
“Hm… Good question. Gay Muggles supposedly have a ‘gaydar’ that helps them sense these things.”  
  
“How do you know?”  
  
“My cousin Justin. He is as gay as they come, he’s four years older than me but has been openly gay since he was seventeen. He’s an artist, and stayed with my parents in London when he studied at the Royal Academy of Arts for three months a couple years ago. He could tell if a guy was gay in ten seconds flat.”  
She giggled. “And would usually drag him in the nearest men’s room and fuck him against the wall in the next two minutes…”  
  
“You’re kidding me!”  
  
“No. I’m serious. He’s in a long term relationship with some older man in America, but said that both of them believe that as gay men, fucking whomever they want, whenever they want is their god given right; He said that fucking without the pretence of love is honest and efficient; they get in and out with a maximum of pleasure and a minimum of bullshit.”  
  
“Wow. Cool. It actually makes sense, in a way. Why encumber yourself with a relationship if you just want sexual release? I wish I had ‘gaydar’. It would be fun to fuck around…” He shrugged. “But not with Him… I’d want more than a quick fuck. I really, really care about him, Hermione. And somehow, he doesn’t seem the type to accept an open relationship.”  
  
“No. I agree.” Hermione smiled. “I think Professor Snape would be very possessive of his lover.  
Definitely the jealous type…”  
  
“…Prof… How do you know…?”  
  
“Come on, Harry. Outside of our trip in Australia, you spent every night of his coma in his hospital room. When he’s around you, you can’t take your eyes off him. A compliment from him in DADA, and you glow for hours. It’s not exactly hard for your best friend to figure out.”  
  
Harry rested his head in his hands. “It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”  
  
“Of course not. You can’t help whom you fall for! Anyway, even I can see the attraction. Tall, dark, powerful, intelligent, quick witted, loyal, passionate, intense… He would be a great match for you.”  
  
Harry smiled at her. “You really mean that, don’t you?”  
  
She smiled back. “Totally. But how do we figure out if he’s gay? Where is Justin when I need him?”  
  
“No way! Keep your cousin away from Snape! He’s mine. No one is fucking him against a bathroom wall but me!”  
  
Hermione giggled again. “Harry, he’s over a half a foot taller than you. That would be physically completely impossible. The reverse though…”  
  
“Uh… I guess so. But even though I’ve never tried either, I think I’d rather be the doer than the… do-y. That’s not even a word, is it?”  
  
“No, it’s not. The actual word for the doer is a ‘top’ and the do-y is a ‘bottom’.”  
  
“Do you know how embarrassing it is that you know more about being gay than I do?”  
  
“Well, you could read up on it. But do be a little discreet. Being bisexual in the wizarding world is tolerated, meaning that people close their eyes to the fact that a man might cheat _on his wife_ with another man. But being purely gay is definitely not on. Children are too rare and too precious. A individual’s homosexuality can be overlooked, as long as they are single and apparently celibate, but gay couples are routinely ostracized by polite society.”  
  
“Oh. I didn’t realize that. So, if I wanted respectability, I would have to marry a witch, and carry on my gay life behind closed doors?”  
  
“Exactly. The correct thing to do is to warn your future wife in advance, trade your sexual freedom for something _she_ cares about and cannot have without you. In your case, it would probably be social or celebrity status. Then, you make sure to beget an heir and a spare before straying.”  
  
“Well Hermione, I say: fuck respectability. I guess I have to hope my credit for killing Voldemort is enough for my homosexuality to be accepted. I lived in a closet as a child. No way am I doing it again.”  
  
She gave him a big smile. “I am so proud of you! Now, come on, let’s go to the library. I need to talk to Madam Pince.”  
  
It didn’t take long to get there, and though it was pretty full, because few of the students went home for Easter and the common rooms were noisy during breaks, Hermione’s habitual table was free. It was as if no one dared occupying her space. She dropped her bag on it.  
  
“Make yourself sparse,” she said, before walking to the sour librarian’s desk.  
  
Harry placed a strong “Notice me not” charm on himself and followed her. He was shocked when Pince welcomed Hermione with a smile. “Hello, Sweet Heart! How are you this evening?”  
  
Sweet Heart? Pince called Hermione Sweet Heart? Well, Harry supposed he could understand that Madam Pince would love Hermione. She probably loved the books almost as much as the librarian did.  
  
“Irma, I need your help.” (Irma? Sheesh!)  
  
“My help? Honey, you could run this library!” (Honey now? Should he leave them alone perhaps?)  
  
“I might be able to, maybe. But unlike you, I have not read every book twice.” Hermione smiled ingratiatingly. Madam Pince blushed and giggled. Harry had not even known the woman knew how to smile. And she had read the entire library _twice_? How old was she, anyway?  
  
“True, true. But I started before you were born, and you are giving me a good run for my money! What do you need, dear?”  
  
“Well. I am attracted to this boy…” said Hermione in a confidential tone.  
  
“Oooooh! Goody! Now I’m interested!”  
  
It was Hermione’s turn to giggle. She was a terrific actress.  
  
“Well, Irma, that’s the problem: I’m not so sure that _he_ is. There have been rumours about him, and… well I just want to know for sure if he is, hmm, or... you know… not. I don’t want to misinterpret his friendship and make a fool of myself. Is there a potion or a spell to determine accurately, well, hmm…which team a… gentleman plays for?”  
  
Irma Pince leaned over the counter and said quietly, “Well sweetie, if it’s Justin Fitch-Fletchley or Blaise Zabini, you won’t need a spell: They like _studying_ in that booth in the back, next to the Greek manuscripts stacks? And well, let’s just say that it’s a very appropriate location for what their learning technique. After I once returned Euclid’s Treaty at the wrong time (they never even noticed me!), I handed the poor dears a booklet on Distraction and Repelling charms to use along with their very good Silencing charm. Amazing how now, sometimes, people come here wanting to borrow Sophocles’ work, and leave without it!” She giggled again. Did all women giggle?  
  
“Phew! No, thank Merlin, it’s neither of them!” said Hermione. “But how do I find out…”  
  
“Well, there is a spell, love, but I remember something inconvenient about it. I’m not sure what now. Hmm… let me think. I’m fairly positive it’s in De Deici’s ‘Discovering Dissimulated Details Dissertation’, but it might be in Frederic Fennel’s ‘Finding out Frightful Facts From Friends and Family’. I’m sure it’s one or the other. Try De Deici first. Good luck!”  
  
They walked away from the desk. “You seem really good friends with her. How come she doesn’t know about you and Ron?”  
  
“You heard her, she is the worst gossip! I’d never tell her anything unless I wanted the whole school to know.”  
  
“Yeah. Fitch-Fletchley and Zabini… Who knew?”  
  
“Well, I’d heard about Finch- Fletchley and Malfoy. I guess Justin gets around.”  
  
“Did you say Malfoy?”  
  
“Yes, Malfoy. But he will go after anything with a heartbeat, so that’s hardly surprising.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Oh, Harry, where have you been?”  
  
“I don’t know. Busy killing dark wizards, maybe?” They had gotten to the Information Spells section. “I’ll find Frederic Fennel’s, you look for De Deici, OK?”  
  
“All right. Meet you back at my study table.”  
  
It took very little time for Harry to find the tome he was looking for. It was thick, but the print was quite large and modern. Sitting across from Hermione’s spot, he started looking for an index, first at the front then at the back. Thank Merlin there was one! So many of the magical books did not have any, it was a relief. However, it was quite disorganized, most of the Spells listed idiotically under ‘Spells’ and most of those not in any logical order.  
  
Spell to find out what ails a friend  
Spell to discover who has a secret love  
Spell to figure out if a girl is pure  
Spell to accurately guess a woman’s weight  
Spell to find out if a wizard dies his hair  
Spell to uncover…  
  
“I’ve got it!” Said Hermione to his relief. He would have had three pages of ‘Spells’ to get through… He closed his book, and she turned her thin volume so they could both read.  
  
 _OF SEXUAL PERVERSION:  
The simplest manner to uncover a subject’s secret sexual perversion is to perform _ Sexualitas Revelio _on said subject, accompanied by a sharp downward flick from the wrist, followed by a long spiral counter clockwise with the tip of the wand. (Strongly magic individuals should be able to cast it wandlessly while concentrating on the subject’s hair.)  
It is best performed from behind, as the results will show on the subject’s hair at the back of the neck. (Results will remain in evidence until _ Finite Incantatem _is used. They will then fade more or less rapidly depending on individual cases.)  
Simplified Interpretation table is as follows: (In case of befuddling results, see complete table, appendix XXI-c*)  
  
Love of sexual congress with mammalian beasts (Sheep, goats, dogs and the like): Purple  
Love of sexual congress with non-mammalian beasts (Penguins, snakes, and the like): Lilac  
Love of feet: Bright Yellow  
Love of sexual congress with children, male: Pale Blue  
Love of sexual congress with children, Female: Pale Pink  
Love of pain, received: Snow White  
Love of pain, given: Carbon Black  
Love of sexual congress with partners of the same sex: Blood Red  
Love of restraints, on oneself: Orange  
Love of restraints, on partner: Lime green  
Love of foul language, heard or spoken: Dove Grey  
Love of sexual congress with cadavers: Emerald Green_  
  
“I am so glad that homosexuality is considered a perversion,” said Harry sarcastically, “especially when it is grouped together with bestiality, paedophilia and necrophilia…”  
  
“De Deici wrote this in… 1720, Harry,” said Hermione, who had quickly checked.  
  
“And your point is?”  
  
She sighed. “You’re right, of course. But you know what I mean.”  
  
“I suppose. After all, in those days, they would have burned you at the stake along with Crookshank’s, so it all makes sense.”  
  
“You know I agree with you, so cut it out,” snapped Hermione. “You have a Muggle ID. Next time you get a chance, vote in Muggle Britain. Go to the Pride Parade. Better yet, earn a seat on the Wizengamot, and change the laws in our world. Use your fame to become Minister of Magic and change them. Taking it out on me is pointless.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Hermione. I do think you would do a much better job as Minister of Magic, and then you could combat all forms of discrimination, and I’d back you up with my so called fame. How is that?”  
  
Hermione smiled. “Sounds good.”  
  
Harry looked again at the book. “Do you think this works?”  
  
“Probably. De Deici’s spells are pretty reliable. We could always try it out.”  
  
Harry’s smile was wicked. “Draco Malfoy is sitting two tables behind you…”  
  
Hermione giggled. “Oooh! Go for it! Can you do it wandlessly? I’ll reverse it.”  
  
Harry concentrated on the pale silvery blond hair, both hands on evidence on the table. He whispered, “Sexualitas revelio!”  
  
A thin band of orange, a large one of red and a thin grey one appeared on Malfoy’s hair. Hermione turned around and did a quick “Finite Incantatem”, keeping her wand out of sight. Malfoy’s hair faded back to normal.  
  
“Doesn’t mind being tied up, definitely likes same sex partners, and talks dirty in bed,” interpreted Harry. “Well, no surprises there. My hair would probably look pretty much the same… At least, we know it works.”  
  
“You don’t mind being tied up?” asked Hermione, grinning.  
  
Harry grinned back and shrugged. “I don’t know. I think it could be fun. Not all the time, but, you know, occasionally. Ask me again when I’m no longer a blushing virgin. I’ll probably know more then.”  
Hermione nodded. “Good point.” She sighed. “What the heck do _we_ now.”  
  
Harry chuckled. “Do I need to have a talk with Ron?”  
  
She blushed and hit him on the arm. “Oh, hush. We’ve only been dating ten months, and for eight of those, we’ve only seen each other a few hours on the weekend. I’m going to join him all of next week though…” She wiggled her eyebrows.  
  
Harry laughed quietly. “Yeah. At the Burrow. Good luck with that!”  
  
Hermione let out another theatrical sigh, then join him in quiet laughter.  
  
“So. How are you going to cast the spell on Snape? You can’t do it when other people are around, or someone might notice, even if you reverse it quickly…”  
  
“When I think of the number of detentions I had with him…”  
  
“Well, he doesn’t give detentions any more. We could tag team him in class, when people are concentrating on each other.”  
  
“Yes, and Malfoy will cut off my bits while I stare at Snape.” Harry shivered. “Besides, that’s two weeks away. I want to know now!”  
  
“Hey! Isn’t the full moon in just a couple of days? I know Snape brews Wolfsbane still, for someone in school. I was there two months ago when he brought some with the usual array of potions to Madam Pomfrey. He will need fresh aconitum root for that, and that means a trip to the forbidden forest.”  
  
“Hmm. I’ve seen him go in there occasionally with his herb basket in the late afternoon. How fresh does it have to be?”  
  
“I’m not sure. We should keep watch.”  
  
“I can fly and watch from the pitch in the early afternoon.”  
  
“We can go visit Hagrid and have tea on the steps, and I can study under the big oak after if the weather’s nice.”  
  
“All right. We got us a plan!”  
  
Hermione checked out the book, and they left the library, talking and joking around. Playfully, Harry got out his wand and cast the revelio spell on Hermione. He stopped in his tracts.  
  
“It didn’t work!”  
  
She grinned. “I’m just not a pervert, that’s all.” She cast it on him. There were no results. “Oh,” she said disappointed. “It didn’t work on you either!”  
  
“But it worked on Malfoy!”  
  
Hermione had the book out of her bag already, and started reading the whole entry again. “I don’t get it. I did it right!”  
  
“Well, we’re befuddled. Why don’t you turn to appendix Twenty two C Asterisk?” said Harry.  
  
Hermione flipped through the appendices. “Here is XXII-a, XXII-b, XXII-c. It’s really long, six pages. The next one is XXIII! There’s no XXII-c*! …Oh, I’m so stupid. The asterisk refers to the footnote, of course.”  
  
 _*This spell will not work on the innocent. Only deviant behaviour previously engaged in will cause the spell to react._  
  
“Well. No wonder. We are both ‘innocent’. It reacts to actions, not desires,” she concluded.  
“Phew! I thought we were back to the starting line. We should both try it on a couple more people, just to be one hundred percent sure it works, though.”  
  
“It is kind of violating people’s privacy, Harry. I’m not sure that’s right.”  
  
“Just do random people, until you get three reactions, and don’t pay attention to the colours that appear if they do. Well, except dark green. If someone has already done _that_ , it might make sense to find out where they found the body, and what they did with it afterwards. Brrr. That’s so creepy.”  
  
Hermione made a face. “Creepy is not the word I’d use. I think it’s frightening, in a world where you’d only need a well aimed ‘Avada Kedavra’ to find a date…”  
  
Hermione’s first try was on Dean, who was playing exploding snaps with Neville, Parvati and Seamus. She hit the back of his head from sight, pretending to check his hand, and cast wandlessly. Snape would have been proud. Dark blue and dove grey. Harry cancelled the spell.  
  
Harry stood behind Parvati. Nothing. He moved on to Seamus. Good god! It was a bloody rainbow! Hermione had cleared it before he even had time to note all the colours. Red had been one of them though…  
Hermione tried the spell on Neville. Nothing. Ginny called Hermione over for some help with her Arithmancy. Hermione used the occasion to cast the spell again. Bright pink, lime green, dove grey, Harry had it fading out of her hair before it finished showing all its colours. Wow. No wonder Michael Corner was in such a good mood lately.  
  
Harry decided they had enough experience with the spell. It did feel like a violation of privacy and it obviously worked.  
  
The next afternoon, he went flying for a while, then he and Hermione went to Hagrid’s for tea. The weather was fine and their friend thought nothing of them wanting to sit on his stairs in the sun.  
  
He’d gone in for some more hot water, and called Harry for help with the milk jug. When they came back out, Snape was walking towards the forest and Hermione had her wand pointing at him.  
  
“Hermione! What’re you doing!” asked Hagrid, quickly stepping between her and Snape.  
  
Hermione turned a bright shade of red. “I, uh…”  
  
Seeing how embarrassed she was, Hagrid jumped to the wrong conclusion and asked gently, “Are you sweet on the Professor, Hermione?”  
  
“Well…”  
  
“Were you trying to cast something as for him to take notice of you?”  
  
The big man patted her on the shoulder, almost bringing her to her knees. “Oh, I’m sorry, Hermione, but there’d be no point. Professor Snape doesn’t have Lady friends. His interest goes the other way, if you catch my meaning.”  
  
Harry’s heart soared. “You mean he’s gay.”  
  
Hagrid frowned, annoyed at himself. “I shouldn’t have said that, me. You two remember how many people wanted me fired when I started teaching? The same goes for people like the Professor. Forget I said anything, okay Harry? Hermione?”  
  
Harry loved the big man, and hated to see him so concerned. “Hagrid, Hermione is not sweet on the Professor. I am.”  
  
“Oh, well, it’s all good then,” Hagrid said, smiling at Hermione. Then he turned to Harry. “Wait, you are?”  
  
“Yes, Hagrid. I’m gay too.”  
  
“I knew that! I meant sweet on the Professor! I thought you and him didn’t like each other much!”  
  
“I cannot speak for him, but I didn’t for a long time. Then I changed my mind little by little last year, and saw his memories, and now I realize the kind of man he is and well… But, what do you mean you knew I was gay?”  
  
Hagrid looked embarrassed. “Ah! Harry. Don’t worry about it.”  
  
“Hagrid! Come on! Tell me!”  
  
“Now don’t be mad, Harry, but it’s your smell.”  
  
“My smell?”  
  
“Yes. Giants have a good nose for them things. It’s the phe-ro-mones, Professor Dumbledore told me. Girls have them that smell good to boys, and boys have them that smell good to girls. Except a few boys, who have some as smell good to other boys. And they’re the boys I run into, hiding in the giant pumpkins, or behind the broom shed…”  
  
“So you’ve known…”  
  
“Since you hit puberty. Same as the Professor, and all the rest of yous.”  
  
“That’s amazing!”  
  
“It makes me kinda sad, sometimes, like when I hear one of yous be getting married. Unfair, it is. But what can you do? Life is awful hard for them that don’t blend in.”  
  
“I don’t intend to blend in, Hagrid.”  
  
Hagrid smiled big. “I’d never expect it of you, Harry. And it’s good. People might take notice and change their view a bit.”  
  
“That’s what I thought too, Hagrid,” said Hermione. “For once, Harry’s fame might be worth something.”  
  
“Well. It doesn’t matter really,” said Harry, coming back to more urgent concerns. “The man will never notice me.”  
  
“Oh, don’t be daft, Harry. It’s like the flowers and the bees, ain’t it, them pheromones things?”  
  
Harry had no idea what Hagrid was talking about. “Uh… What?”  
  
“The beautiful petals, the pretty smells… Or the unicorn, prancing, showing off their horn…“  
  
Harry was still clueless. Hermione sighed, taking pity on him.  
  
“Attraction, Harry. The flowers emit pheromones that smell good to the bees, and have petals in colours that attract them. The unicorns have mating behaviours, where the males show off their physical attributes. I think Hagrid is saying you should make yourself attractive to the Professor, dress a way that might please him, and show yourself at your best to him.”  
  
“Yes. Exactly what she says,” said Hagrid, nodding wisely.  
  
“Oh. All right. I can try that. Thanks Hagrid.”  
  
“You’re welcome, Harry.”  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
Severus had planned on stopping by Hagrid’s for tea, but noticed the Know-it-all sitting on the steps, a cup in her hand. A shame that. He really enjoyed the big man’s company. He was very intelligent behind his gruff exterior, and amazingly knowledgeable about the flora and fauna of the forest. If he looked back a few times, it was only because Hagrid’s new round cottage looked so idyllic in the afternoon light. Not to catch a glimpse of whom else might be present for tea.  
  
He collected the Aconitum root he needed for the Wolfsbane potion, lucked upon a handful of unicorn mane hair caught in the bark of a tree, found a half a basket worth of chanterelles he would give to the elves in the kitchen to cook something with, scraped some Merkle blue moss off a rock for which he was sure to have some use eventually, and gathered a tight round bouquet of Lily of the valley he knew was Septima Vector’s favourite flower. He walked out of the forest enjoying their scent.  
  
Septima was a Slytherin, and therefore her quarters were in the East wing like his, though hers were on the ground floor. He knocked on her door, admiring her wards. His elderly colleague opened it herself.  
  
“Severus, how nice to see you. Would you care for tea?” She moved out of the way and gestured invitingly.  
  
“Thank you, Septima,” said Snape, entering. “Tea would be fine. I saw a patch of these in the forest and seemed to recall you are partial to them, so I took the liberty of gathering this small bouquet for you.”  
  
She smiled a genuine smile and its warmth melted something in Severus who tentatively smiled back. The unusual expression felt a bit odd, but not uncomfortable, and the fondness he saw in the warm brown eyes made its attempt worthwhile.  
  
“Make yourself comfortable Severus. I’ll be back in a tick.”  
  
He sat in a well worn loveseat by the fire, and wondered, idly, observing how everything in Septima’s quarters looked well loved, how long the woman had been teaching at Hogwarts, and if it would be rude to ask.  
  
When she brought the tea tray, he looked at her analytically, trying to guess her age.  
  
Probably close to Albus’s, he thought. 130? 140? She could have lived in these quarters for a century!  
Her china was exquisite, appropriately hand painted with tea roses and rimmed in pale green. His bouquet, now in a beautiful silver vase, took center stage on the tray. The tea was excellent and beautifully fragrant of orange peel and bergamot.  
  
“I have been meaning to thank you for taking over the duties of Head of Slytherin House,” said Severus.  
  
“After the last few years, I find myself enjoying greatly my diminished responsibilities.”  
  
“This is my fourth stint at it. The role seems to fall on me every twenty years or so. I usually enjoy it for five years, and put up with it another two or three, then I like to pass it on. I was amazed you managed to last as long as you did especially with everything else going on in your life, and doing such a splendid job of it. After a year and a half, our snakelings still miss you. You are a tough act to follow.”  
  
Severus was extraordinarily gratified to hear that. He had given a lot to his House.  
  
“Thank you, Septima.”  
  
She smiled at him again. “I became a teacher here when I was forty-five. I was born a Yaxley and drank pure blood traditions with my mother’s milk. I was married at fourteen to Maximillien Vector, an octogenarian who was last of his line and who had finally succumbed to family pressure to beget an heir. His first love, his only love had been Arithmancy. Taking his child bride on as a student was the best way he knew to show his affection. Being rather smarter and more mature than I owe to have been at that age, I understood that, and excelling at Arithmancy was my way to show it.  
  
“I can honestly say that by the time I received my Mastery and gave birth to Primo, our first child, my husband and I loved each other. We went on to have three more children, and cooperated in writing two seminal books on applied Arithmancy. When my husband died, at a hundred and twelve, I could not even imagine ever loving anyone else. Our children were grown, three of them married, Primo the father of two already, so when the position here came open, I took it. It was the best decision I ever made. I love teaching today as much as the day I started, and I love Hogwarts.”  
  
She laughed. “You must wonder why I am telling you all this.”  
  
“You honour me by sharing your history,” answered Severus honestly.  
  
Once again, the warmth of her smile touched him. “Thank you, my dear. I am sure you have found, in your years of teaching that once in a while, there comes a student who makes it all worthwhile, and to whom, secretly, you become attached.”  
  
Severus smiled, knowing exactly what she meant, and answered, “Luna Lovegood. An extraordinary brewer: exceptionally talented, intuitive, knowledgeable, curious. A gift and a joy to teach.”  
  
She nodded. “Yes. They only come around every decade or so. And of all the exceptional students I had in my ridiculously long career, one stands out above all the rest. You, Severus. For five years, you made teaching a joy. You made Arithmancy exciting again, and you rekindled my love both for my chosen profession and for my subject.”  
  
She laughed again. “You looked so young just now, pleased and embarrassed at the same time. Think of Miss Lovegood, and how much you enjoyed teaching her, and you will know there is nothing to be embarrassed about.”  
  
“You are right, of course, Septima. I am delighted of your esteem and grateful you confided in me. I felt, right or wrong, that I had redeemed myself when the Dark lord fell, and started, in my mind at least, with a clean slate, an even scale. I shall put the joy I brought to my Arithmancy teacher on the positive side of the scale and enjoy it.”  
  
She smiled. “Through the years, Albus consulted me often regarding the influence of your particular magical signature on the events developing, though he knew my hypothesis were little better than guesswork. Arithmancy’s most reliable results are based on thousands of factors and their relationships. To try and untangle and follow one thread in the tapestry is a fool’s errand. Yet the actions of a few strands seemed to make remarkable differences in the outcome of our fight against Voldemort. Mr. Potter’s of course, then that of that horrible little rat of a man, but most of all yours.  
  
“Harry Potter may have killed Voldemort, but you are the one who really brought him down. Without you, Mr. Potter would have failed in over fifty percent of my projections. Would you be so kind as to pour more tea?”  
  
Severus felt ridiculously vindicated for the choices he had made, the personal toll he had paid, the public scorn he had suffered. He _had_ been essential to Potter’s success. He poured the tea, which had been kept warm by a spell.  
  
“Thank you dear. Please forgive the rambling of an old woman. I have a point, though how it took so long for me to get to it is unfathomable.” She laughed again. She leaned forward, and placed a hand on his arm.  
  
“Severus, you are yet young. You have given much and deserve many rewards. Open yourself to those who care about you, my dear. Seek friends, and companionship. And when it comes, regardless of its provenance, let love into your heart, and share your life with the man who returns it. Trust this old woman, who ninety years later still finds fulfilment in the thirty years of love shared with her husband.  
Nothing in this world beats the happiness of loving and being love in return. Nothing compares to a smile from the man you love and nothing is more pleasurable than a good shag.”  
  
Severus was shocked into laughing out loud, an ever more unaccustomed sensation than his earlier smiles. Septima joined him in mirth, and they both laughed whole-heartedly for some minutes. Finally, still smiling, and noticing it didn’t feel quite as odd, Severus said, “Thank you, Madam, I shall keep that in mind.” Which got Septima to chortle again as she wiped her eyes.  
  
“Your chanterelles look a bit wilted, Severus. I’m not sorry I kept you so long, but I suspect those ingredients need tending to.”  
  
One look in his basket told him she was right. “Thank you for a delightful interlude in my monotonous day, Septima, and believe me when I say I shall keep your advice in mind.”  
  
“And thank you for the flowers. That was most thoughtful of you. Have a nice evening dear.”  
  
“Good evening to you as well.” Severus took his leave. He thought about what she had said, and thought about the note in his drawer as well. Back in his quarters, he put the basket under a stasis spell, sat at his desk and opened said drawer to read the note again.  
  
Git,  
  
Far be it from me to use your given name once denied the familiarity!  
  
Dictaquills offer a wide range of possible calligraphy, the cursive you obviously thought of as feminine being only one of them. I hope this new handwriting will leave you in no doubt as to my gender.  
  
The amazing thing about students is that, once they sit their NEWTs, they are students no more.  
  
Hopefully it is something we can both look forward to.  
  
Respectfully yours.  
  
Next, he picked up the list of names. One of these young men was attracted to him, and was looking forward to graduating so as to be able, he assumed, to pursue a relationship with him. Wrenching his eyes away from the name his eyes always seem to seek, he looked at the ones that were circled. With the years, he had developed a sense for recognizing potential sexual partners. He was quite sure these individuals were attracted to their own sex.  
  
Angus McGraw  
Justin Finch-Finchley  
Seamus Finnegan  
Julius Marchbanks  
Blaise Zabini  
Of course, Draco Malfoy should have been on that list but no matter what, he would never be attracted to the insipid blond.  
  
Finally, he took out the rather consequent booklet, which covered all of Hogwarts rules and regulations. After an hour spent reading it cover to cover, he was glad nothing contradicted his memory of his first reading of the book almost twenty years ago.  
  
There were no rules against teachers entering into relationships or enjoying sexual congress with students who were of age and consenting. The only mention of such a situation was that “If a teacher and an adult student enter into a relationship sexual or otherwise, care must be taken to keep their interactions out of the public eye, and their connection as discreet as possible.” He could do that.  
  
The first young man he ran into was Julius Marchbanks, of Ravenclaw. They were both on their way to lunch.  
  
“Hello, Mr. Marchbanks. How is your break, so far?”  
  
“Uh… Pardon? Oh, my break! Uh.. Lot’s to review. NEWTS coming up, you know. Hmm. Uh… Yours sir?”  
  
“Enjoyable. I am much better now.”  
  
“Oh? Were you ill sir? Well I mean, of course you were, in a coma and everything. Right?”  
  
“Right. Good day, Mr. Marchbanks.”  
  
“Uh. Yeah. Bye sir.”  
  
Well, this was not his secret correspondent. The boy looked terrified, and had no clue what Severus had been referring to. When he returned to his quarters, Severus put a precise line through his name.  
  
He left a note for Blaise Zabini to come to his office that evening and discuss his plans for the future. Zabini had always been a most competent brewer, and might if nothing else, appreciate a leg up from his old Head of House.  
  
“Good evening, Mr. Zabini. You are right on time.”  
  
“I know punctuality is important to you sir. I am grateful you contacted me sir, as I wanted to speak to you but was at loss as how to bring it about.”  
  
Well, that sounded promising. The young man continued.  
  
“I am pleased you remembered my expressed desire in fourth year to study potion at the University level. I always worried you might have thought I was trying to ingratiate myself. I still want to go on in the field, and go for my Mastery. I was hoping for your support.”  
  
Oh. Zabini was only thinking of Potions. Hmm… Well, he was a very good student.  
  
“As you know,” answered Severus, “there are two ways to a Mastery: University study, or apprenticeship with a well respected Master. I am sure I do not need to tell you which is preferable. Cambridge’s program, as far as university education is concerned, is the only one I would consider adequate. However, if you wanted to apprentice, I would gladly put you in touch and recommend you to a Master I respect.  
Though I no longer teach the subject, I would have been open to the idea of taking you on as an apprentice, but I am unsure of my own future plans, and cannot at this time make that kind of commitment.”  
  
Zabini’s dusky skin was not so dark that he was immune to blushing. “I am truly honoured, sir, and I know anyone you recommended would be great, but my… the person I am dating is going to apply to Cambridge for Charms, and we want to be together. I was hoping you would write me a letter of recommendation. The number of spots is limited, but with you as a sponsor… Well, sir, you are the greatest Potion Master in Europe, and that’s a fact. It would carry a lot of weight.”  
  
Ah. The young man was in a serious relationship. Oh well. Three to go…  
  
“I will be glad to write a letter of recommendation for you, but I will also give you a piece of unasked for, and I am sure, unwelcomed advice. You are nineteen years old, Mr. Zabini. Though your boyfriend could be the love of your life, you might want to reconsider choosing the less desirable path to your goal based on your current attachment.  
  
“People change, situations change. You might live a long and fulfilling life together, but then again you might not. Base your decision on what you really want, on what is best for you. If it is meant to be, your feelings will endure the three-year separation, or, since most magical universities have excellent Charms programs, your boyfriend might perhaps consider choosing the location of his studies based on your needs, and not the other way around. Food for thought…”  
  
Blaise Zabini’s smile was just a bit condescending. “What I really want and what is best for me are the same: to be with the man I love. If Cambridge was good enough for you, sir, it will be good enough for me.”  
  
Severus was amused. “It was not good enough for me, Mr. Zabini. I graduated from Cambridge with a double Mastery, one in Potions, and one in Defence against the Dark Arts. I then proceeded to study potions for three further years with Damocles Belby, and assisted that remarkable scholar in his creation of the Wolfsbane.  
  
“I learned more in the first six months of my apprenticeship with Master Belby than I did in my three years of university. Any competent fourth year coming out of Hogwarts could follow the courses at Cambridge. The level demanded of our NEWTS students, were I still teaching the course, would put you on par with some of its graduates.  
  
“Coming from another program, most students, while well versed on theory, only know how to brew the OWL and NEWT required potions, a dozen in all. You are competent to brew every potion needed to truly understand Potion creation. I have always taught Potions as applied theory, and I know that, when Professor McGonagall hired your current Potion Professor, she insisted on that approach, though I have not kept abreast of what goes on in my old classroom.”  
  
“Oh. But I’d heard…”  
  
“That I started teaching here when I was only twenty-two? I graduated Hogwarts at seventeen, and I finished my double mastery at nineteen. I turned twenty-three three months after coming to Hogwarts. I was a very bright, very arrogant, and very unattractive, Mr. Zabini. There was little to distract me from my goals: to command respect, and to be admitted as quickly as possible in the Dark Lord’s inner circle. In my haste I forgot the importance of self-respect, and have spent the past fifteen years atoning for that oversight.”  
  
“For what my opinion is worth, I would say your order of Merlin, First class, and the fact that DADA is every student’s favourite subject show that you have been redeemed, sir. I don’t know anyone who commands more respect than you do.”  
  
“Thank you, Mr. Zabini.” Severus felt as if somehow, this simple comment had thawed yet another piece of his heart.  
  
Zabini laughed. “I’m glad this conversation occurred after you’d already said you’d write me a letter of recommendation or even consider taking me as an apprentice, otherwise, it might be misconstrued as the worst example of kissing up ever, and I might be thrown out of Slytherin.”  
  
“I’d have petitioned for it myself,” answered Severus, chuckling. The look on Mr. Zabini’s face reminded him that he did _not_ chuckle, and he ended up smiling at the young man, that knew expression he’d only recently acquired.  
  
“I will have that letter ready for you in the next few days, Mr. Zabini, and though I am no longer your official head of house, do not hesitate to come to me. I am afraid that I still consider the seventh years ‘my’ Slytherins. The only difference is that now, if you are interrupting something, I’ll make a time for you to return later.”  
  
“Thank you very much sir. I like Professor Vector an awful lot, but you have known me since I was a boy. It makes a difference.”  
  
As soon as Zabini left, Severus walked to his desk and put a line through his name. He reflected, though, that he was glad he had spoken to the young man. He truly wished him well, and hoped he would reconsider his decision to put his love life ahead of his education.  
  
It was only nine, and today was Tuesday, a day when like-minded wizards went out to public houses for discreet encounters. Most straight people were not even aware that it was so, though most of the establishments owners knew that they often rented rooms for one night to single wizards on Tuesdays, only to often find them empty, sometimes with the bed in disarray but not even opened, by closing time.  
  
He made his way to the Three Broomsticks. It was chancy during the breaks, but Rosmerta knew him _very_ well, and could be counted on to be absolutely discreet.  
  
He entered, and made for his favourite place at the bar, in the shadowy, far corner where he could easily observe and not be seen. Rosmerta smiled at him, and brought him a Vodka on ice, something he only drank on Tuesdays.  
  
Predictably, there were several groups of students present and amusingly, two of his next three prospects were in attendance. It was a coincidence that he noticed that Potter and both his friends were part of the interesting Gryffindor/Slytherin gathering as well. Seamus Finnegan was a nice looking man, with an easy laugh and dancing eyes. Tall, broad, reddish blond hair, blue eyes. Severus was neither a fan of freckles nor of space between front teeth, but he could live with those. His best friend Dean Thomas was actually more attractive, with a secretive smile and perfectly symmetrical features, but his arm was around Susan Bones, and the admiring glances at her décolletage and the infatuated look on his face made it clear he was not on offer.  
  
Surprisingly, Draco Malfoy was sitting next to Potter, and they seemed to get along beautifully, joking and laughing. On Potter’s other side was Ginny Wealsey, of course, and across from them, her brother and Miss Granger, an unlikely but obviously affectionate couple. Across from Malfoy was Severus’s second Ravenclaw interest. Angus McGraw was the quiet type, and average in everyway. Brown hair, brown eyes, pleasant features, five foot ten, average build, pleasant voice, average student, drinking butter beer.  
He laughed at the other’s jokes, but did not say much himself.  
  
He would have made a perfect spy. A half a dozen sixth-year Gryffindors and Slytherins completed the table, underage all, and therefore of no interest.  
  
Taking his eyes off the students, Severus looked around the room. He noted the two tables of three men, friends out for the evening. Alone, one was stuck at the bar, on display. In pair, it was unclear to others whether or not you were part of a couple. So three was the usual number for gay men looking for companionship for an evening. From his dark corner, Severus looked the six men over. One of them, with a dark ponytail and sensuous lips was very much his type.  
  
The next time Rosmerta came his way to put down a case of empties under the bar in exchange for one of full butter beers, he just said, “Rosmerta, a drink, for the man with the ponytail.” She smiled and nodded in acknowledgement.  
  
A few minutes later, she put down a drink in front of the man, making sure she put it on a coaster, which otherwise she hardly ever used. She exchanged a few words with the three men, and left. The man’s neighbour spoke to him briefly, making Severus smile interiorly. He had spent an evening with that man over a year ago, and left him languid and exhausted, a smile on his lips, in one of the rooms upstairs.  
  
Ponytail looked in his direction, and Severus moved forward into the warm light of the wall torch, raising an inquiring eyebrow. Yes, Mr. Turpin. Your old Professor looks much the same as he did ten years ago. How would you like to have him suck your cock? The man picked up his new drink, a signal he was willing, and drank it in one go, showing his enthusiasm.  
  
Rosmerta must have somehow followed the exchange, because without any more need for communication from Severus, she went back to the table, cleaned up the dirties, and dropped a key in front of Samuel Turpin. Looking in Snape’s direction, he raised three fingers. He would be in the room in thirty minutes.  
  
Severus, looking forward to a good shag, relaxed against the wall, and took up observing the customers again. Potter, still laughing at one of his friends’ joke, got up to make his way to the loo.  
  
Merciful Merlin! What the fuck was Potter wearing? Severus did not even notice his sudden drop into the vernacular, far too busy watching this… this… gorgeous piece of ar… man walk by. His jeans fit him like only spell to fit jeans can, not too tight, no, but perfectly displaying everything worth displaying, which in this case was, god, everything inch of Potter’s body. The white muscle shirt might have been painted on, had it not ridden up to flash a dark treasure trail with each step, and the open shirt on top was just transparent enough to show off the shadows of the shoulder and arm muscles. He was not wearing trainers, but some dark leather lace up boots.  
  
Every gay man’s eye in the pub followed his progress, and Severus wanted to slap every one of them down, on behalf of Ginny Weasley, of course. Why in the world would she let her boyfriend go out dressed like _that!_. Two men who had been standing at the bar, and one of Samuel Turpin’s companions got up, suddenly needing to use the facilities. Unbelievable. Severus was tempted to follow, just to see how Potter would handle himself. Then he saw Angus McGraw head out the back door, and noted the absence of one Draco Malfoy, and he decided to head that way instead, since the staircase to the rooms was next to the back exit anyway.  
  
He made his way outside into the alley quietly, a ‘Notice Me Not’ charm around him, and moving with his usual stealth. Slightly further down the alley, Malfoy, his robe open and trousers mid thighs, was already energetically fucking McGraw in an entryway.  
  
“Spread your legs further and leaned a bit more,” said Malfoy, “I’ll be able to fuck you harder. Yeah… Like that.”  
  
“God, that’s good. Harder! Yeah… Can you go deeper? Oh Merlin, yes! Like that! Right there!”  
  
The two were well matched, and good friends, it seems, not hesitating to ask for what they wanted. Grunts and moans punctuated their obviously very satisfying coupling, becoming more urgent after a while.  
  
“God, I love to fuck you, Gus, you are such a cock slut. You like a cock up your arse, don’t you?”  
  
“Fuck, Draco, this is so good, I love a cock up my arse, a hard, long cock, like yours. Work it, oh, fuck, work it hard! Faster, I’m close. Come first, I want to feel your spunk in me when I come. Yeah, yeah, oh yeah, you’re coming hard! So warm, ah, so wet, aahhh, yeah…fuck yeah…”  
  
They collapsed on the door, laughing.  
  
“You are such a bossy bottom!” said Draco.  
  
“A big bossy bottom and proud of it,” answered Angus, chortling. “That was really good. Fuck, Drake, I really wish you weren’t such a primadona and you’d feltch already. I’d love your tongue in my hole right now.”  
  
As he retreated inside, Severus, hard and ready, hoped the half hour was passed. Between Potter and that little peep show, he was hard and wetting the front of his pants already. But that was one more he could scratch off his list. He entered the room at the left of the stairs, where Samuel Turpin was naked, on the bed, and caressing an impressive cock. Severus closed the door and leaned on the jamb, a smirk on his face. “Nice view,” he said.  
  
“Will you really take it up the arse?”  
  
“I would not have it any other way.”  
  
“When I was a student, I would have totally figured you as a top.”  
  
Severus unclasped his robes and opened his placket letting out his own impressive erection. And moved to the bed. “The world is full of surprises. I have many buttons to remove, why don’t you come and suck on that while I do so?”  
  
Samuel smiled, lay on his belly and obeyed enthusiastically. “Fuck, you’re cock is gorgeous,” he said, grinning up at Severus.  
  
Severus grinned back, leaned a bit forward and smacked him on the arse. “Less talking, more sucking.”  
  
Samuel chortled and swallowed him whole, gagging but not caring. Ahh. Severus’s kind of man.  
  
It was after two in the morning when he walked back to Hogwarts, three orgasms lighter. He had realized, somewhere in the middle of the evening, that his last fuck had been almost a year before. Yet, until the second note calling him a git, he had not missed sex. His secret correspondent had managed to remind him to eat, to talk, to brew, and now to fuck, truly bringing him back to life.  
  
He was fairly good at identifying other gay men. Sadly, if it was McGraw, it would never work, on the bases of their sexual incompatibility. Severus had no interest in topping, and apparently neither did Angus. So unless he had missed someone, it left Finnegan or Finch–Fletchley.  
  
He got his answer a couple of days later, when he went looking for Zabini to hand him his letter of recommendation. When he inquired as to his whereabouts from the first Slytherin who came out of the common room, a third year whose name he could not recall told him with a sneer that Zabini had gone to meet his _study partner_ in the library, hinting quite clearly that the truth was otherwise.  
  
“And that bothers you, Mr. Rockwood?”  
  
“Perverts like him are an embarrassment to Slytherin,” the child answered.  
  
“Then so am I,” said Severus, tired of the dishonest bigotry of his own house. “Although, not so much as your father and brother, for what greater shame can there be to Slytherin than once having housed Death Eaters who never considered the absurdity of licking a half blood’s boot while spouting out pure blood propaganda?”  
  
He left, berating himself for his lack of control. He would have to go and confess to Septima later so she could check on the child.  
  
He had almost caught up to Zabini, who was about to enter the library, when a voice rang out.  
  
“Blaise, wait up!” and Seamus Finnegan ran up to the Slytherin, waiving a piece of paper. “It’s all good!” He stopped upon reaching him and grinned. “It wasn’t rented yet. You’ll love it, it’s right next to campus!” Zabini smiled back, and enveloped the Irish boy in a hug, both of them laughing happily and they entered the library together, Zabini with his arm around the Gryffindor’s shoulder.  
  
Severus decided to report his errand to another day, giving the boys a chance to celebrate having apparently secured lodging for the following year. He went back to his rooms, and put a line through Seamus Finnegan’s name.  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_


	2. Part 2

Harry and Hermione talked all the way back from Hagrid’s about his advice. Hermione said it was very good. After all, Harry might now be reassured as to Snape’s sexual orientation, but what did Snape know of Harry’s? Gay men did not go around dressed in oversized shapeless clothes: Malfoy, Zabini, Finch-Fletchley, Seamus, all of them dressed really well, as did Julius Marchbanks, in Ravenclaw, with whom she had done a project at the beginning of the year and whom she was quite sure was gay too.

“You need new clothes, anyway! You’re never going back to your aunt and uncle, and I’ve seen you in your skivvies. You’re hot, Harry. Get Snape to notice you, and maybe he will start to wonder about your inclinations, and see you as more than just a boy in one of his classes.”

“I don’t want to be his boy-toy, Hermione!”

“Yes, because I am sure he’s going to forget the past and what you have lived through, your courage, your intelligence, your perseverance, just because he notices he likes your arse. He knows you Harry. He just doesn’t see you’ve become a man while both your attentions were on the future of our world.”

“I’ve never bought anything but school robes. How would I know what to get?”

“I’m taking you to Diagon Alley tomorrow. We’re going shopping.”

Their first stop was at Gringotts, where Hermione sent Harry back for a second bag of coins, though he had already filled the first one more than ever before. Then, she had one bag changed to Muggle money, and took Harry to Harrods’s men’s department. The young salesman who welcomed them, “Hello, I’m Casey. How can I be of help today?” made no secret of his sexual orientation, and was dressed to the nines. Hermione took things in hand.

“My friend Harry,” she rolled her eyes at Harry who was trying to walk away and dragged him back, holding on to his belt, “Mr. Shy-boy here, is a gay man with the wardrobe of a troll. We live in a straight lace environment, but within conservative parameters, he needs to show off what he’s got, otherwise, he’ll never get laid. Help?”

Harry thought he was going to die from embarrassment, especially when she added in a fake whisper, “His underwear is as bad as the rest. Start with that.”

Casey hiked Harry’s pants up and cinched his baggy shirt to his body, to get an idea of his size and asked, “Boxers or briefs?”

Red as a beet, Harry answered, “Boxers, please.”

It wasn’t until Casey came back with a dozen boxes marked Calvin Klein and they had Harry cornered in the changing room that Hermione let go of his belt.

He yelped when all the clothes he had removed flew under the door, obeying a discreet “Accio, Dudley’s old duds.”

“Hermione! Give me my clothes back!”

“Oops, to late! I just banished them!”

“Where to?”

“A garbage can at the train station…”

“Hermione!”

“Have you got the underwear on?”

“…Yes.”

“Well?”

After a moment of silence, Harry chuckled and admitted, “I look fucking hot Hermione!”

“Let me see, let me see, let me see!!!”

“You’re a girl!”

“And you’re a poof, and I know it, and I’m in love with your best friend! _Let me see!!!_ ”

Oh, well, she had a point. He opened the door and stepped out a little.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God!” Exclaimed Casey who had just walked back in, his arms full of clothes. “You are lucky you brought your fag hag for protection, because I would definitely be attempting to molest you otherwise. You gorgeous fool! Why have you been hiding that body?”

Harry blushed but smiled and asked teasingly. “Molest me? Really? What would that consist of?”

Casey finished hanging the garments and whispered in his ear, “I would fall on my knees and worship your cock until you came so hard you’d see stars…”

Harry immediately regretted asking, because his cock went from semi soft to hard as a Beater’s bat in about twelve seconds. Hermione seeing him in glove tight underwear was one thing. Her seeing him with a huge hard on was definitely another...

But when she said, “I’ll go to the shoe department real quick and bring you back something to try your trousers with,” he was not as relieved as he thought he would be, considering the smile on Casey’s face.  
Before he had a chance to protest, she was gone and Casey was closing the door to the changing room. He wanted to tell him he’d only been teasing, that he was in love with another man, that… but before he had a chance to say anything, his cock was in Casey’s warm wet mouth and he realized that when he had tried to imagine what a blow job would feel like he had been ridiculously short of the mark.

It felt so fucking good. Better than good. Oh, god, so much better than good, good was bad. This was fucking heaven, nirvana and cloud nine all at once, wrapped in bliss and covered in paradise sauce. This was… He stopped thinking, and became one with his cock, and he came and came and came seeing not only stars, but whole galaxies, parallel universes and their stars and galaxies. He slid along the wall and landed on his arse, across a smiling Casey who was wiping his hand and tucking his own spend cock back in his pants.

Harry looked at him, and said with feelings, “Thank you. That was amazing.”

Casey laughed. “The pleasure was mine,” he said.

He stood up and helped Harry to his feet. As he tucked a still wobbly Harry in, he said, “Come on gorgeous, let’s get you dressed.”

Harry entrusted his new Muggle wardrobe to him, and when Hermione came back with four pairs of boots, let the two of them decide which were best. He only gave his opinion as to colour choices, a definite no to all reds, which he hated despite being in Gryffindor, but yes to light green, turquoise and indigo.

They left the store with underwear by Calvin Klein and Bikkemberg; jeans, two blue 501’s and one black Armani; long sleeve Boss t-shirts in all three colours; silk and ultra thin linen button downs by Gucci and Dior; a gorgeous dark grey Zegna suit with a snow white shirt and a Hermes peacock tie; and ankle boots by Lanvin and Prada. Harry had asked why Casey always told him the name of the designer, as if it was as important as the fact that it fit, and Casey had just shaken his head, telling him he was “so, so cute.”

The fat roll of Muggle bills was almost gone. Unbelievable. Harry was ready to go back to Hogwarts, but Hermione was determined, and off they when to Madam Malkin's, for wizard wear. Hermione whispered something to the woman, and a few minutes later, Ernie McMillan’s older brother Earl came out of the back to help Harry, so he would not have to wait while Madam Malkin's took care of Arlissa Kingsley who was purchasing clothes to appear at her husband many official functions.

Earl had been working in design, tailoring and fitting for three years now, and loved it. He knew exactly what Harry needed… Dress robes, semi casual robes, and of course the trousers, vests and shirts to go with them. Harry actually enjoyed this part of the shopping better, because he loved the materials and the colours, and the very comfortable though incredibly fitted Wizard trousers, with stirrups that went under the sole of the boots to hold them in perfect position. He also bought a cloak made of cashmere wool, with hidden pockets, protective charms, and a water repellent charm already included in the fibres, the material and the finished garment.

For a small fee, all the Muggle clothes he had just purchased were spelled to fit to perfection, and a hidden wand and secret pockets added.

His bag of coins was much lighter when he left the store, but he did have apparation coordinates to Earl’s apartment and a tentative date for three days hence.

“Are you going to go?” asked Hermione, when he told her.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think it would hurt to have some experience if I ever manage to convince Snape to give me a chance. I’ve never even kissed a bloke before. I don’t know. What do you think?”

“My cousin Justin’s first time was with his older boyfriend, but he said it was just luck, that they are still together because sex between them is unbelievable, and not because of his lost virginity. When they became serious, his boyfriend wanted him to reserve bottoming for him only, so when he screws around, he tops everyone else. He said a lot of guys attach some importance to the first time they bottom, but that topping is a lot more like a blow job or a hand shake. It means nothing. He said that being a great fuck is way more important for gays than being a virgin. But that’s one guy’s opinion, and he’s an American Muggle, so I’m not sure…”

“Well, that’s more than I know. From a gut feeling, it actually sounds right, besides which, knowing that Snape might never give me the time a day, I should probably not save myself for him...”

They travelled back from the Leaky Cauldron to the Three Broomsticks by floo because it was too far for Hermione to apparate, and walked back to Hogwarts. Harry was worn out. Hermione helped him carry his many bags and parcels to his room, and before he had a chance to say anything, banished every stitch of clothing he possessed previously to the same garbage can as before. Harry was annoyed, but grateful too.

Now he had no other choice but to embrace his new image. Hermione yawned and admitted to being tired as well, and they both decided to take a nap, Hermione curling up on Ron’s old bed, which had remained though it’s owner was gone.

Neville woke them both up for dinner. When Harry stood up, in 501’s, with a muscle shirt and a thin linen button down left open, he looked him up and down and said, “Wow, you look really good Harry. If you start dressing like that, Professor Snape is bound to notice you!”

Harry panicked. “What do you mean, Neville?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Neville hurried to reassure him. “I only mentioned it because it’s just the three of us. But you know Luna, she seems out of touch, but she sees more than anyone else. When I got upset last year that Ginny was flirting with Michael, she told me not too feel bad for you because you were gay anyway, and this year, she said you fell in love with Professor Snape. She wouldn’t tell anyone else, but with her being my wife, she tells me, obviously.”

“Wait, wait, wait! You and Luna are _married_?” asked Harry disbelieving.

“Yeah. We love each other, and it’s meant to be, you know? We did it last June, with no fuss. A friend of my Gran officiated, and my Gran and Luna’s dad were witnesses. We both knew when she came back from the Malfoys that we’d be together forever. Why wait? Life’s too short not to enjoy its blessings, you know?”

“But you still live in the dorms!”

Neville blushed. “The room of requirement is working again, and it always liked me. We spend a lot of time there…”

Hermione sighed dramatically. “Harry, I’m starting to feel we are the only virgins left on earth.” She grinned at him. “I don’t know about you, but I’m all for changing that.”

“Me too. I took the first step: I got a blowjob this morning.”

“You did?” said Neville. “Aren’t they great? Luna gives the best blowjobs. She does that awesome thing  
with her tongue…”

“Neville! Neville! Too much information!” said Hermione.

“Oh. Sorry Hermione. I’ll shut up now,” said Neville, smirking.

“Neville,” asked Hermione. “When did you get so evil?”

“Fabulous sex will do that to a guy,” he replied and then ducked as she threw a pillow at him. “Come on, you two, let’s go eat!”

Neville was not the only one who liked Harry’s new look. Seamus proposed they all go to the Three Broomstick that evening for some fun, to celebrate not having a roommate who dressed like a troll anymore. It was as good an excuse as any, and they all seconded the idea. By the end of dinner, with Dean telling his girlfriend Susan and Lavender telling her boy friend Ted Nott, all the students who were of age and allowed off ground knew of the outing. As Harry was leaving the great hall, Draco Malfoy fell into step with him.

“Potter, love the new clothes, love your arse in the new clothes. Now that it’s not embarrassing to be seen with you, I might even be talked into considering joining the Hogwarts’ contingent at the local pub this evening.”

Harry felt bad that Draco was unsure of his welcome. He knew he’d been ostracized by a lot of the Slytherins, and his past behaviour had not exactly endeared him to many. Harry felt they had come to some kind of understanding at some point, and being paired with him for DADA on a regular basis had helped him appreciate Draco’s intelligence and humour.

“Is my arse nice enough for you to sit next to me and give me a run down on gay etiquette in the Wizarding world?” asked Harry, knowing he was taking a risk, giving such potentially dangerous information to the archetypal Slytherin.

Draco’s usually controlled face registered shock, appreciation of Harry’s trust, and respect for his willingness to risk his reputation to extend a hand in friendship. Soon enough though, the usual smirk was back in place. “Is said magnificent arse on offer then?”

Harry batted his eyelashes. “No, gentle sir. I am saving myself for true love…”

Draco laughed. “Does it count if I’d truly love to fuck you?”

“Draco, outside of peeves, is there anyone in the castle you wouldn’t truly love to fuck?”

Without a second of hesitation, Draco started a list. “Filtch, Pince, the various ectoplasms, Hagrid, the house elves, the first, second and third years, Parkinson, Midgen, Creevey, and Goyle. Hmm… I think that’s it.”

Harry was laughing the whole time. He questioned, “Flitwick?”

Malfoy smirked. “A Charming little fellow. No objection whatsoever.”

“Vector?”

“Harry, you cannot say no to a hundred and ten years of experience!”

“McGonagall?”

“I bet when she let that hair down she’s a tigress in bed.”

Harry was laughing too hard to question him any further. They bumped shoulders, and went their separate ways.

It was as if Harry’s confiding his sexual orientation to him had erased the last stumbling block for he and Draco to start their relationship anew. That night at the pub, their continuous banter had everyone in stitches. Ron was able to join them after work and soon, he too started joking around with Draco as if the previous seven years of near hatred had never happened.

Harry loved his new skin. He’d never realized how insecure his ridiculous clothing had made him feel. Michael Corner had been unable to come, and Ginny had sat next to him, and was flirting with him, though they both knew it was for fun. But having the attention of the two most beautiful people in the room felt really, really good.

When Harry asked Draco to get up so he could go use the facilities, Draco quietly warned him that some guy might follow him and offer him a blow job, a hand job, or even sex. He told him to be really clear about what he agreed to before following someone in a stall, because then the guy would always stick to the agreement. If he left things vague, then it was a free for all.

Harry said, “I’ve used the head here a hundred times. I’ve never been propositioned!”

“Ah!” said Draco with a grin, “but it was not Tuesday night, and you didn’t look like that!”

Harry shook his head. “We need to talk.”

Harry went to the facilities and used the urinals. Three other men had entered the men’s room after him, and did the same. Harry had the strange feeling there was some kind of communication between them.

Though most Death Eaters were dead or in Azkaban, a few had escaped capture. He washed his hands, and noted in the mirror that there was definitely some silent interaction between the men. After he dried his hand, his wand silently slid from the pocket in his sleeve into his hand. He turned around, ready for anything.

Well, ready for anything except for one of the man saying with a hungry smile, “All three of us would love to suck your cock, green eyes, or whatever else you’d like. Choose one?”

Fuck! Draco had not been talking nonsense. What should he do? Brief thoughts popped into his head, helpfully. He remembered the amazing blowjob experience that morning. He remembered feeling Snape’s door was about to close in his face and not knowing what to do, he remembered the conversation with Hermione. He saw himself knowledgeable and self assured doing what Casey had done to him that morning: not giving Snape time to say no before drowning him in pleasure so sharp he could only say yes.

One of them was a tall lean brunet with burning dark eyes and very white teeth. Harry smiled at him and paid heed to Draco’s instructions. “You. Mutual hand jobs and kissing, yeah?”

The man he’d picked smiled a brilliant smile. “Oh, yeah.” and they entered a stall together.

Harry heard one of the other man say, “Fuck me, prepared with a spell and lot’s of lube?”

“Biting?”

“No blood, no marks”

“All right…” and the door to another stall opened.

Harry’s tall companion asked, “Do you want to put on the locking and silencing charm or shall I?”  
Who ever put them up could drop them. Harry’s wand was already in his hand so he cast Silencio, as well as several privacy charms, locking charms and wards. His companion chuckled, “Well, at least we’re safe…” and Harry realized it had been a little bit of an overkill, but he just smiled and raised his fringe.

“Some of us need more privacy than others.” Better tell the man and obliviate him, than hope the stranger did not know who he was and read the whole sordid story in the Prophet tomorrow.

“Harry Potter? Fuck! You’re going to obliviate me , aren’t you... Shit.” He looked genuinely disappointed, as if he’d really wanted to remember this. Then he smiled and got out his wand, extending it handle first to Harry. “I give you my wizard’s oath I will never speak a word to anyone, nor write about anywhere, nor in any other way communicate to anyone what took place between us this evening.”

Harry smiled back at him, accepting the man’s solution. “I accept your wizard’s oath.” He grasped the handle of the wand, and a ribbon of light came out of the tip, wrapping itself around the tall man’s head, covering his mouth and around both his hands, before disappearing.

“Thanks,” said Harry.

“I don’t want to be with you because of who you are,” said the man, cupping Harry’s cheek with a long fingered hand. “I’m here because all evening I thought that you were the most attractive man I had seen in a long while as you sat between your two good looking friends, and because when you walked to the loo, with your easy athletic gate, your body was as appealing as your face.”

He kissed Harry’s mouth lightly, his own mouth warm and soft.

“What’s your name?” whispered Harry against his lips.

“Marcus.”

“Kiss me, Marcus.”

And so he did. It was slow and tender, yet there was no doubt in his mind that Harry was kissing a man.

It did not have the softness of Ginny small pointy tongue and her timid caresses. There was a bit of stubble to be felt when Harry ran his tongue on the lower lip, the mouth was larger, more possessive, and Harry was on his toes, looking up at his partner. The kiss was lovely, and terribly arousing, the body he was pressed against nice and hard. Marcus put both his hands behind Harry’s head, cradling it and deepened the kiss, changing its tenor to one of desire and raw eroticism, his arousal hard and hot against Harry’s flat stomach.

He backed up and looked in Harry’s eyes. “Fuck, you taste so good I just want to devour you,” he said.  
Kissing him again, he ran his hands all the way down Harry’s body until he got to his trousers to unbuttoned them, push them down along with the new underwear to mid thigh. Harry did the same, except that Marcus was going commando under his traditional trousers.

The man’s cock was hard, heavy and alive in Harry’s hand. It felt hot to the touch, and hardened further as soon as Harry caressed it lightly with the tips of his fingers. Harry was shocked by how turned on he was from holding another man’s hard cock in his hand. He backed slightly away from the kiss and looked down. He was surprised that Marcus’s penis was about the same size as his. It felt bigger. The sight of the dark red head with a drop of fluid oozing out of the slit above his loose fist made him literally moan with need.

Marcus looked down as well, as he wrapped his long fingers around Harry’s cock.

“You feel good in my hand,” he said.

“Fuck, your hand feels great on my cock,” replied Harry, breathing fast, closing his eyes a moment so as not to embarrass himself by coming even before things started in earnest.

He whined when Marcus let go of his cock to get his wand out, but had his own wand pointing at the man’s throat before even thinking about it.

“Shh, it’s all right, Shh,” said Marcus, pushing away Harry’s wand as if he was reassuring a skittish horse. “I’m not pointing it at you, it’s all right Harry, shhh.” Harry relaxed his defensive stance, and Marcus smiled, before casting a spell Harry had never heard (Escalatus?) and transfiguring the commode into a four inches high platform. When Harry stepped on it, they were face to face, exactly the same height.

Marcus’s right hand was back on Harry’s cock, and the left was behind his neck. Harry cast a wandless and wordless Lubricus that got both their palms deliciously slippery, and Marcus moaned his approval into Harry’s mouth. Harry was thinking another man’s hand jerking him off was about twenty times better than doing it himself, especially while the man kissed the hell out of him, when Marcus did something genius.  
He put their cocks together with both their right hands working them and the feeling was extraordinary.

They interlaced their fingers and formed a tight tunnel, and both were pumping their hips and fucking it. With his other hand, Marcus was playing with Harry’s nipples and _that_ was something he never would have thought could be so unbelievably pleasurable. Harry allowed himself to explore his companion’s firm and lightly furred arse, running inquisitive fingers along the rhythmically contracting muscles, the warm crease, the pucker which tensed and relaxed at his touch, causing Marcus to moan into Harry’s mouth, then throw his head back away from the kiss to cry out and come when Harry breached him.

The warmth of Marcus’s cum, the lost look on his face, the pulsing of his cock and the involuntary tightening of their linked hands pushed Harry over the edge, his cum a geyser that landed mostly all over Marcus chest except for a few drops that made it to his chin.

They rested their foreheads on each other’s shoulders, hearts and breaths erratic. Harry was feeling guilty about the mess he’d made of the man so he cast a wandless, wordless cleaning spell.

“Wow. Well done,” said Marcus, without moving.

“The cleaning spell or the hand job?” Asked Harry, chuckling.

“I think it was pretty clear how I felt about the hand job,” answered Marcus with a smile in his voice.

“I can’t cast anything wandless. Your magic must be pretty strong.” They had both almost caught their breaths when he chortled. “Oh, Merlin. You must think I’m such an idiot. _Your magic must be pretty strong_. I forgot. Harry Fucking Potter! You did get that order of Merlin for your cleaning spells, right?”

They both cracked up. Harry really liked the fact that this man didn’t care who he was. It was refreshing. They rubbed their five o’clock shadows together, then found each other’s mouths again, and enjoyed kissing for a while. Then they both straightened out their clothes and got ready to return to the pub.

“We’re good together. I’d love for you to fuck me sometime,” said Marcus.

“I’ve never tried penetrative sex. I’d be worried about hurting you,” said Harry, honestly.

“If you want to bottom first to see how it’s done, you’ll have to talk to someone else. I don’t top. But if you don’t mind me giving you pointers as we fuck, I’d be game. I love the way you move.”

“I’ll think about it. How would I find you?”

“Here, on Tuesdays. We could floo back to my place.” He kissed Harry again. “You are a fantastic kisser.”

Harry smiled at him. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

They left the stall. Marcus went back to use the urinals, and Harry rejoined his friends. Draco and Angus were coming back from the outside, red cheeked and laughing. Hermione and Ron were in an animated discussion with Seamus.

“…But then I got the letter from St Mungo’s,” Seamus was saying. “I floo-called Sean right away, but he already had had the work done. I felt bad, but he said he would put the place up for rent and recoup his investment in six months, and then make money on it, so I shouldn’t worry about it. We were both looking forward to living in the same house again, but he knows mediwizardry is really what I want, and he’s happy for me.”

“What are you blabbering on about, Finnegan?” asked Draco, rude out of habit.

“Oh, fuck off, Malfoy,” Seamus responded to the rudeness, but then he answered the question anyway, because like the others, he had realized in the past few months that Draco wasn’t as bad as all that.

“I’d applied at St Mungo’s, but they didn’t answer for the longest time, so I was going to go for Charms at Cambridge. Me brother’s getting his doctorate in mathematics there (He’s a Muggle like me Dad, you see.). He’s a wife and two bairns, but I hardly know them, because he got hitched after I started Hogwarts. He owns a house close to campus and he said he’d have his attic made into a one-bedroom apartment for me. Of course three weeks later, I got me letter.”

“Do you know if he has rented it yet? Because Blaise is looking for a place for him and Justin, and you know how it is, they can’t rent from magical folks. You should tell him about it. I bet he’d be interested.”

“Well, Draco Malfoy! Did you just, for a few minutes, think about someone else beside yourself? I’m shocked!” said Harry, teasing.

“You lot are a terrible influence. That, two firewhiskies and the afterglow of a good shag, and I’m turning benevolent. I may have to kill myself,” Malfoy replied, downing a third firewhisky, “or accept it for what it probably was: a momentary possession by the spirit of some long dead Hufflepuff.”

They all laughed, and Draco smiled at Harry. He was amazingly gorgeous, really, and though Harry didn’t find his ethereal beauty a turn on, he could appreciate it.

Harry walked home soon after with Seamus and Julius. Seamus sang this amazing Irish ballad on the way back. He had a fabulous voice. The song was about longing and sorrow and unrequited love, and Harry thought about Snape the whole time. Between the alcohol he was unaccustomed to and the singing, he was turning into a maudlin mess. Shaking himself, he decided he must have been possessed by the same long dead Hufflepuff spirit as Draco earlier.

He started to think about what to wear the next day since Snape would be at breakfast. Prancing and showing his horn and hoping Snape would be attracted like a bee to nectar…

_-_-_-_-_-_

School was in session again, and Severus had not found a convenient excuse to be alone with Justin Finch-Fletchley. He was practically sure the young man was his secret correspondent and had been discreetly observing him whenever the occasion presented itself. Justin was tall, well built, had a charming smile, blue eyes and curly light brown hair with blond highlights. He had large hands with very long fingers, and spoke with the clipped English accent of the Muggle upper class. His wardrobe was only bested by Draco Malfoy’s and screamed of money and privilege, yet he had none of Draco’s superior attitude.

He was popular, confident, though only a slightly better than average student. In DADA, he seemed to enjoy the duelling but he was not particularly gifted at it, and his magic was not remarkable in any way.

It was lunchtime and since he had the seventh year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuff at the end of the day, Severus was considering possible means by which he could get Justin to his quarters. He was distracted by the arrival of the seventh year Gryffindors, who seemed of late to be in very high spirits. Amidst the crowd, joking around with Granger and his red headed girlfriend was Potter.

For the past two weeks, Potter had adopted a completely new style of dress. Severus could not believe the fuss it had created. Who cared if Potter went from having the most appalling wardrobe to suddenly showing amazing style and taste, and, granted, an amazing body, as well? Every morning, there were endless comments about his outfit, and whether it was nicer than the one the day before, and that, _at the teacher’s table!_ It was ridiculous.

The young man had missed breakfast that morning, which he had done a couple of times of late, so it was the first chance most of them had to see yet another sample of Harry’s seemingly bottomless new wardrobe.  
His beautifully cut new school robes were open on wizard wear today. (That was Severus’s personal preference, though without the robes, the boy’s arse in jeans was nothing short of sin. Both of them had been at the Three Broomstick again on Tuesday, Potter with his two best friends and Severus in his dark corner. Potter had worn black jeans with grey long sleeve t-shirt and had looked to die for.)

Potter was wearing black wizard trousers, the way only narrow hipped and long legged men could wear them, a snow white collared shirt with his Gryffindor tie, and a velvet vest in faded gold tones with black embroidery. The vest emphasized the V shape of his torso, and the robes’ cut, the width of his shoulder. He heard Sinistra wonder to the new Potion Professor, whatever his name was, what the black embroidery was of, Snitches? Snape wanted to shred the idiot woman with a few chosen words off his razor sharp tongue.

First of all, it was obvious to anyone with decent eyesight and a minimum of imagination that the pattern of the embroidery was that of a murder of crows taking flight, and second, who in Merlin’s name could care about the embroidery of the vest when given a chance to stare at the play of the lean, long muscles of the man’s thighs (and perhaps, inadvertently at the titillating silhouette of his noteworthy package), moulded to perfection by the cut of the wizard pants?

Finally, why should a teacher pay any attention at all to what a student was wearing, and make it a topic of conversation at the teacher’s table? Sinistra was out of control…

The occasion he had been waiting for finally presented itself that day in DADA. They were studying  
counter curses as an alternative to a broad shield, in a way to preserve one’s magical energy in a duel.  
Justin (That’s how Severus now thought of him in his mind), asked, if there were known instances of wizards using only counter curses against several opponents and still carrying the day. Which of course there were, of which Severus could have given dozen of examples off the top of his head, including Potter in class the week before, facing Nott, Finnegan and the younger Greengrass girl.

Instead, he replied, “A good question Mr. Finch-Fletchley. If this is a topic of particular interest to you, you may borrow one of my books about it.” Justin had looked very surprised, but had just said “Thank you, Professor.”

_-_-_-_-_-_

Justin Finch-Fletchley was walking to Professor’s Snape’s quarters. He wondered what the man wanted. Not too long ago he had spoken to Blaise and then written him a letter of recommendation, though he had tried to push him to go for an apprenticeship instead of a university education. Blaise was one of Snape’s Slytherin. Justin didn’t really believe the man had just decided to loan him a book on a whim. He was probably going to talk to him about what would be best for Blaise.

Justin did not really care what would be best for Blaise’s education. Blaise’s mother was richer than god, and not so young anymore. Blaise was her only heir. At some point, they would be inheriting more money than they could spend in a lifetime. No way was Justin was letting Blaise out of his sight.

Snape, after class had said to come by at eight. Justin knocked on the door thirteen minutes early. Being early had a lot of advantages. It took some of the control out of Snape’s hand and made up a little for the fact that they were meeting on Snape’s turf. It took a while for the Professor to come to the door, and then, he let Justin in and left him alone for a moment, saying, ”I’ll be right back.”

It was obvious the man had just taken a shower, and he had probably just thrown on a robe to open the door. Now he had to go back, get dressed, dry his hair, and so on. Justin could count on at least five minutes alone. As soon as Snape disappeared, Justin took a look around, searching for information that might give him the upper hand in the coming conversation. Snape’s desk. He was quite sure the thing was secure, but he knew a very handy charm he’d learned from the first Slytherin who had fucked him, when he was hardly fourteen. It had been his first lover’s family’s secret.

He got out his wand, and cast the charm that made the top of the desk transparent, giving him a view of the contents of Snape’s drawer. There was a note, creased in half, but opened.

Git, it said,  
Far from me to use your given name once denied the familiarity!  
Dictaquills offer a wide range of possible calligraphy, the cursive you obviously thought of as feminine being only one of them. I hope this new handwriting will leave you in no doubt as to my gender.  
The amazing thing about students is that, once they sit their NEWTs, they are students no more.  
Hopefully it is something we can both look forward to.  
Respectfully yours.

There was a list of the seventh year boys’ names, and some were circled. Of these, only his was not struck through the middle. All the boys whose names were circled were gay or bisexual. Justin automatically noted that there were three missing. Zachariah Smith, Harry Potter, and Draco Malfoy. But anyway, it looked as if Snape was searching for the author of the note.

Then there was the Hogwarts rules and regulations notebook, opened on the paragraph requiring discretion from both parties when a teacher and an adult student were having a relationship. Justin cancelled the charm, and sat down in a chair in front of the fire.

He’d been wrong. Snape did not know he was involved with Blaise. He was looking for his secret and obviously infatuated correspondent, hoping to start an affair.

What would be the advantages of fucking Snape? Discretion would mean he could probably still carry on with Blaise. Snape was probably a hell of a fuck: he was, after all, an expert at everything he did. The man was a war hero, with huge influence. He was also probably the heir to the Prince estate, and rumour had it that he’d been Dumbledore’s heir as well. His net worth was probably a matter of public record.  
Justin would have to investigate. Snape could help Justin in his academic career, be his influential mentor and possibly, even, his sugar daddy. By the time Snape came back, Justin had already decided how to handle the situation.

“Sorry to have made you wait. The book I spoke of is on…”

“Does the fact you brought me to your inner sanctum mean I now do have leave to call you Severus? I like  
it so much better than “Git”,” said Justin with a seductive smile.

Snape’s expression changed from completely neutral to one of pleasure. “So, it was you.”

“I was wondering if you’d ever guess.” He walked towards Snape, invading his personal space, whispering in his ear. “You smell great.” Then he dragged his lips along Snape’s jaw, getting the man to shiver, and fell on his knees, unbuttoning his robes and his placket, and looking up.

“I should have jumped you when you opened the door and saved us some time…”

Snape’s cock was hardening fast, and the man might be an ugly and sour bastard, but his dick was gorgeous. Justin shivered with anticipation of having that up his arse.

“Justin, wait, you don’t have to… umph!” For now, he concentrated on giving the man the blowjob of his life. He had plenty of experience with that, and thought he was particularly good at it. Snape, in the afterglow, would probably give him more of the information he needed to pass for whomever it was who had sent him that note. Justin’s money was on Malfoy, but the more he knew, the better.

Soon enough, Snape was coming in his mouth, and though it was totally disgusting, Justin swallowed as if it was nectar. Next, he stood up, and closing his eyes and concentrating on Malfoy’s gorgeous face, kissed the daylights out of the old man.

“Ahh,” he said, finally looking at Snape. “I’ve been dreaming of doing this for so long…”

“And how long is so long?” asked the smiling Potion Master.

“That shall remain my secret for now,” said Justin teasingly. “So, no more objection about cavorting with students?” He was taking a chance, but that was a pretty easy deduction to make from the note he had read.

“It seemed quite clear from your notes that this was something you wished. You saved my life, Justin, my sanity. Why wait to give you what you want in return when I owe you so much?”

Snape kissed him. He wasn’t half bad really. As long as Justin kept his eyes closed, he could do this. Especially if it meant getting that beautiful cock in his arse. The thought of it got him nice and hard, and he rubbed his hard-on against Snape’s hip.

“Will you give me everything I want?” he asked with a purr.

Snape resumed the kiss, and his hand went to Justin’s cock, caressing it in the most delicious way through his clothes.

“Everything… I have been dangerously daydreaming while teaching you in DADA, about _this_ sliding inside me, about you fucking me into the mattress…”

Oh, fuck! Snape was a bottom? Justin hardly ever topped… Most guys wanted to, and he ‘let’ them, a double win for him, because they felt they owed him, and he only really enjoyed bottoming. Oh, well, he’d done it before, he could do it again, and there was that great charm to prepare and lubricate an arse. No way was he putting his fingers in Snape’s hole. He shivered in disgust, and Snape actually thought it was in anticipation. With a smile, he held Justin’s hand and took him to his bedroom.

They undressed themselves, smiling at each other. What a weird expression to see on Snape’s face… Oh god. The man was a scarecrow, thin, with wiry muscles and a lot of jutting bones, pallid skin with completely black hair, the contrast totally weird. And there was that hideous thing on his arm. Draco at least had the decency to wear a glamour over his, for Merlin’s sake.

He and Snape fell on to the bed. Draco’s cock, Draco fabulous body, Draco’s vicious toping… Justin concentrated on the blond so as not to lose his erection. Silly Blaise rimming him, worshiping his hole with love. Blaise sliding inside of him, so thankful he sometimes had tears in his eyes, Blaise screaming his name as he came... Eyes closed, Justin sighed with pleasure at the hand job he was getting. Snape did know what he was about…

He rolled the man over onto his belly, saying, “I can’t wait anymore…” grabbed his wand, and cast the charm on the bony arse, and closed his eyes again as he pushed himself in, imagining it was Potter’s perfect bottom he was sliding into. Oh fuck, it felt so fucking good… Snape moaned and pushed back so Justin’s cock was suddenly buried to the balls in tight, hot, slick pleasure as a vision of Potter’s arse filled his head, and he came with a jerk, shivering and breaking out in sweat.

Snape moved again, intent on fucking himself on Justin, but Justin’s dick had already shrunk and slipped out shamefully. Fuck! He hated toping! The pressure, the responsibility!

“Oh, Merlin, I’m sorry, you felt so good, I’ve wanted this for so long, I just… Oh fuck. I’m sorry…” he lamented trying to save face. Snape turned over and smiled.

“Don’t worry. It’s rather flattering, really. Come here…” He held Justin to his skinny chest and petted his hair. Justin wanted to run out of there screaming, but he closed his eyes again and thought of Draco.

“Don’t worry about it. You are seventeen. I’m sure the next round is not too far off…” said Snape. What? He expected _another round?_ Justin chuckled in agreement as he started thinking fast of a way to get out of there.

Luckily, McGonagall’s voice rang into the sitting room, from the floo.

“Severus? Severus?”

Snape whispered a quick apology, put on a dressing gown and went to answer the call of the headmistress. “Minerva. What can I do for you?

“Oh, Severus, I’m sorry. I did not think you might be in bed already. Something is hiding inside the Hufflepuff girls’ third year dormitory, in the window seat and I just don’t think it’s a boggart. I was hopping you could take a look and get rid of whatever it is. The girls are absolutely hysterical and are keeping the whole house up.”

“Not a problem, Minerva. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thank you, Severus.”

Snape came back into his bedroom and gave Justin a kiss. “I’m sorry to have to shorten our evening. Duty calls. You should probably head back to your dormitory.”

He looked as if he was hoping Justin would argue with him and stay. Yeah, right. “As long as you promise I can come back soon. I can do better, I swear…”

Snape kissed him again, (God! Did he have to do that constantly?) and chuckled. “I’m sure you can, and I cannot wait for you to show me. I know you are busy with your NEWTS. Just come back when you can…”

Snape kissed him again and went into the bathroom. Justin was dressed in record time and ran out the door. He practically ran all the way back to his room (he was a prefect), and grabbed his towel and toiletries. He actually used the dorm showers he was so eager for a wash. He brushed his teeth under the spray, and after coming out of the shower, rinsed his mouth with his minty mouthwash.

Snape had not tasted bad or anything. It was just the thought of it. He needed a fuck in a big way. He used his minuscule fireplace to send a red flare to the Slytherins’ common room’s fireplace, he and Draco’s special signal, and headed to the empty classroom on the ground floor that they always used. He had just finished transfiguring the teacher’s desk into a mattress when Draco showed up, locked and warded the door and started to strip.

“Get naked and lie back, Fletch, I’m in the middle of a review session, and I don’t have time for bullshit.”

Even though he knew Draco did not return his feelings, the blond boy’s attitude still smarted, but he did as he was told, because he knew what came after was always extraordinary. He drank in Draco’s ethereal beauty, the perfection of his golden body, the magnificence of his pink prick, and almost cried in disappointment when Draco used the spell he himself had used on Snape. He so loved Draco’s fingers inside him…

But the next moment, Draco was pushing into him, rough and relentless, pulling a grown of pain from him at the sudden invasion, and he almost came it hurt so good. Draco fucked him, hard, deep and fast, staring down at him. “Play with my nipples,” he ordered, and Justin did, roughly caressing the pink aureole with his callused thumb, pinching the hard tip gently, just the way Draco liked it. “Jerk off, I’m going to come.” Justin took himself in hand, and started masturbating, his strokes matching Draco’s rhythm.

Finally, finally! Draco changed his angle to touch Justin’s prostate, and Justin was so grateful to his blond god he could have cried. A dozen thrusts and he was coming, calling out Draco’s name, whispering, “I love you, I love you, I love you…” Draco shuddered and his thrusts became erratic as he came, deep inside Justin.

Draco pulled out, did a cleaning spell on himself and said, “Save the love bullshit for Blaise, will you,  
Fletch? That man thinks the sun rises and sets with you. By the way, this was our last fuck. Blaise is my friend, and it doesn’t seem that he’s ever going to see you as the little gold digger you are. He genuinely cares about you. You obviously don’t think anything of cheating on him, but I won’t be a party to it anymore. Besides, you’re not that good a fuck. See you around.” Draco left.

Justin curled up on the mattress and let his tears fall. Draco had ended it. After five years of hopeless infatuation, three years of baseless hope, Justin finally had to face what he’d known all along. Draco did not love him, did not even like him, and would never be his.

Well. He had two men who thought he was everything they ever wanted. He took a deep breath, took a hold of himself and, after casting a cleaning spell, got dressed and headed back to his room. Tomorrow was another day…

_-_-_-_-_-_

A Jarvis! Obviously a prank. Snape had been copiously and creatively insulted by the magical creature as he was bringing it to Hagrid, and had actually laughed out loud at some of it’s more colourful epithets.  
Walking back to his quarters, he thought about the events of the early evening. He had been delighted to have finally found his correspondent, and the fact that Justin was very attractive was a welcome bonus. Severus had to admit to himself that the encounter had not been at all what he expected.

He had imagined his correspondent eager to establish a more intellectual connection, perhaps sitting on the couch together talking, then eventually getting closer and kissing. Though he’d had every intention to make the young man his lover and had even whished for it to be in the near future, He had not expected a blowjob three minutes after introducing themselves.

Justin’s blowjob had been charmingly inexpert, but Severus would have come had it been even worse, the young man’s eagerness very arousing; eager, but inexperienced. His kisses were messy and slobbery, he obviously had no acquaintance with the subtle pleasure of opening your lover by hand, and well, the premature ejaculation would have been completely funny if it had not been a bit frustrating. Severus already expected it would be quite some time before Justin lasted long enough to pleasure him, but he would eventually, as he would learn to hide his teeth, suck deeply, deep throat and swallow around a cock, and how to kiss like a man and not an overexcited puppy dog.

Still, Severus whished they’d talked. He had a lot to say to the young man, and it was obvious there was more in his interest for Snape than sex. Maybe next time…

To his complete surprise, Harry Potter was waiting for him at his door when Severus returned. He carefully paid no heed to his relief that Justin had not asked to remain, allowing him to see Potter.

“I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but I always seem to miss your office hours.”

Respectful, poised, so bloody attractive. “There are such things as appointments, Mr. Potter, the purpose of which is to avoid students intruding on their teacher’s private time and space.“

“An appointment,” repeated Potter, expressionless… “Of course. I’ll set one up with you after my next DADA class. Again, I apologize. Thank you, sir. Good night.”

Potter turned around and started to walk away. Severus should have let him go, of course…

“Mr. Potter. You are here now, and I am at leisure.” The young man turned back and smiled, and Severus’ s world, irrationally, seemed a brighter, happier place. “Come in. An exception, Mr. Potter, not to be repeated.”

_-_-_-_-_-_

It had been almost two weeks since Harry had followed Hagrid’s advice and changed his wardrobe. The way people behaved, you’d think it was more important than getting rid of Voldemort. He would not lie, though. He liked the attention. Malfoy and Seamus made veiled jokes about what they thought of his physique and what they’d like to do to him. He knew they were both teasing, but not really. They did think he looked really hot, but they were his friends first.

He had gone on a date with Earl McMillan, and they had never made it out to the restaurant where Earl had made reservations. He rented a bedroom one flight up, not far from Madam Malkin’s, at the corner of Diagon and Miss Tick alley. The house elf of the lady he rented from would get him teas and what not.

French doors opened onto a balcony, surrounded with climbing plants, with a view of the bustle of the busy street bellow. They sat there for a while, waiting to head out, on the old lady chintz settee, warmed by charms, just chatting. Earl was quite good looking, and his eyes never stopped roaming over Harry’s body.

At one point, he got up and stretched, his erection quite visible inside his wizard trousers. He went in, and after a few minutes, called Harry, who assumed it was time to go.

Instead, Earl was naked on his bed, caressing his erection. Harry smiled. He hadn’t come for the food.  
He stripped quickly and joined the other man on the bed, kissing him, their bodies pressed against one another. He could not believe he’d once wondered if he was really gay as their penises rubbed deliciously one against the another.

Earl headed south and started giving him head. It was better than anything Harry had ever felt. He had thought Casey’s blowjob was great, but it did not come close to Earl’s.

“Earl! Stop!”

Earl looked up at him wit a shit eating grin. “Do you really want me to stop?”

Harry laughed. “Hell, no! But I want to learn how you do this. It’s the best blowjob I’ve ever had!” He didn’t mention he’d only had one other…

“Let’s do a 69. Turn around so that we can both do it at the same time.”

Harry got into position. Wow. Earl’s cock was right in his face. He could smell it, sandalwood and musky sweaty balls. Somehow, it smelled amazingly good. He put his nose in Earl’s pubes and breathed in. Oh, yeah, male, arousal, warm scent. ‘I can’t believe I like the smell of cock. I am so gay!’ he thought, laughing at himself.

“Smells fantastic, right?” asked Earl.

“Amazing,” replied Harry.

“Wait till you taste it. Lick the drop of pre-cum out of my slit.”

Harry put on his _Why the fuck not_ attitude and did. It was salty, bitter, warm, and the head felt incredibly soft and cushiony. Fucking delicious. He did it again, then put the whole head in his mouth, spongy, soft, elastic, and sucked, getting more pre-cum on his tongue. Oh god! He loved sucking cock!

“Do what you feel like doing, and I’ll do the same to you so you’ll know how it feels,” advised Earl.

Harry wasted no time, swirling his tongue, licking the large vein, the slit, putting Earl’s cock inside his mouth and sucking, trying a little bit of teeth, pushing Earl’s cock against his cheek, occasionally popping the head in and out passed his lips. The instant feedback was great. Pretty soon he was doing quite well, as well as Casey had, but nowhere near what Earl had been doing.

“Let’s do the same thing the other way, you lead, I follow,” said Harry, eager to learn. “Oh, fuck, oh, god! How the hell do you do that?”

Earl told him about deep-throating, about swallowing and humming around the head. Harry tried and gagged, badly. “You get used to it,” said Earl, “but until then, there is this cool charm. Let me?”

“Ok.”

Earl put the tip of his wand against Harry throat and cast a spell, “Novem Torpeo”.

He let his wand fall to the floor and said, “Your gag reflex is way down now. You can suck with the best. It will come back gradually in the next half hour or so. By then, you’ll have gotten used to the sensation of a dick this far back. Pretty soon, you won’t need the charm. Now, swallow me up and suck, I’m so hard for you I could weep!”

Harry did. Earl’s cock now slid effortlessly to the back of his throat, and down. Harry buried his nose in the man pubes, swallowed with his mouth open, brought him back up sucking all the way, took a breath and did it again. Earl was doing the same to him, and god. He had never thought a blowjob could feel this way. He hoped to god it really was as good for Earl as it was for him, and kept bobbing up and down, in love with Earl’s cock, his scent, in love with his own and the sensations it was giving him.

He thought of doing this to Severus Snape, surrounded by the smell of camphor, eucalyptus and whatever heavy musk would emanate from the man’s genitals, and the next time he was deep into Earl’s throat, he came and came. Earl’s cock was pulsing in his own mouth and Harry swallowed again and again, the cock was so deep, he never tasted the cum. When Earl pulled out, he took a deep breath and laughed.

“Holy fuck. Please tell me it was as good for you as it was for me!” He said.

Earl got on his elbow and grinned at him. “You are a natural. This was one of the best blowjobs I’ve ever received. I just love sucking cock. Don’t you?”

“It is fan-fucking-tastic. The weight, the softness, the hardness, the smell, the taste. God. I had no idea. I always thought guys who sucked cock were doing the other guy a favour.”

Earl laughed. “Half the time, when I give head, I come in my pants, sometimes without even touching myself. That’s how much I love it.”

“And it shows,” said Harry, switching position so he was face to face with Earl again. They kissed deeply, languorously. “I can smell myself on you. Smoky and citrusy”

“Yeah, you smell great.” They kept kissing, running their hands over one another, playing with each other’s nipples. Soon they were both hard again. “Harry? I don’t do anal, but I can show you something else if you want, something I promise you’ll like…”

“Oh yeah? Will I get to do it to you after?”

“If you want to hear me moan and whine, and beg like a girl…”

Harry laughed. “Oh, yeah!”

“First I have to cast this other spell on you. If you like this, and hope someone will do it to you, or if you’re going to get fucked, this is a spell you _have_ to know.”

“OK.”

“Some people can cast it on themselves and others wordlessly, which is really classy. I wish I could.”  
He hung of the side of the bed, looking for his wand and Harry took advantage of the situation to caress his furry arse. Earl came back up with a smile. He pointed his wand at Harry’s belly and cast, “rectum et colonia, vacuo et tergeo.”

OK. That was weird. Harry felt empty, as if he’d just gone to the bathroom. His lousy latin told him his lower bowel had just been emptied and scrubbed clean. He could definitely see the advantage of that if you were about to get a cock up your arse, but Earl had said no anal, so he was a bit confused.

“Ready to have your mind blown?” asked earl, with a wicked grin.

“Blow away,” he said curious.

“Turn onto your stomach, then raise your arse in the air and spread them.”

“No anal, right?”

“Promise.”

“Here goes!” Harry assumed the position and was glad for the spell. This was embarrassing enough without having to worry about odours or… whatever. Earl lay on top of him, his hard cock in Harry’s crease, and nibbled on his neck and shoulders, then kissing, licking, blowing air, biting, scratching, made his way back down. It felt really good. He nibbled Harry’s arse cheeks, massaging them, tonguing the top of the crease, and that was all good. He smacked Harry lightly on the arse, and pinched the flesh and fuck, who would have thought? It felt great.

Then his tongue followed the crease down and down… What the fuck was he doing? If he wasn’t careful he was going to lick his… Oh, shit! Ohhhh! Ohhhh! Oh, god. Warm wet tongue, licking hole: Gooooood.  
Oooh! Warm wet tongue, circling hole again and again: So, so good! Holy fucking shit! Warm, warm wet tongue fucking hole, oh god! Oh, dear god! “Earl, oh fuck! Earl don’t stop! This is so… oh fucking Merlin, yeah! Keep… Ahhh! Oh god that! That! Yeah, Oh, my god! “

Harry had no clue where he was, what he was saying, how much time had passed. He was in sensation heaven. Something harder and longer had breached him a while back, along with the tongue, and he didn’t care.  
Earl could have shoved his wand in there right now and Harry would have loved it. Then something touched something inside, he howled in pleasure, and a hand gripped his cock and pumped and the something was touched again and he exploded, crying out, mewling, totally owned.

He might have blacked out. A hand was caressing his hair, and a mouth was kissing his shoulder. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, meeting Earl’s smiling face.

“You liked that, did you?”

Harry chuckled. “What the hell was that?”

“Rimming. It’s pretty intimate. Not everybody does it. It’s one of my personal favourite.”

“I can see why.” He took a deep breath and stretched, then yawned hugely.

“If you’re too tired to go reciprocate, I won’t be mad. I know you still have to get back to school and everything,” said Earl kindly.

Harry licked his lips. “Go back? Now? Are you crazy? I have an arse to feast upon. I want to hold your hole hostage, and hear you beg, pretty boy! What did you do at the end, inside, with your finger or whatever?”

“I caressed your prostate. You’ll feel it, it’s a raised area, as if there was an apricot or a big cherry you could feel through the wall. That’s what guys aim for with their dick when they fuck another guy. I hear it feels amazing. It certainly does when you rub it with your finger.”

“You’ve never had anal sex?”

“No. There is so much fun to be had without it. I’m saving that for love, you know? I’m pretty sure I’ll be a bottom. I’d like my first time to be with the man I want to spend my life with. I’m just a romantic fool. Do you want to have casual anal sex?”

“Well, I think I’m a top. I’m in love with someone whom I’m sure has tons of experience. I’d hate to fumble around, and hurt him, and come in twelve seconds if I ever am lucky enough to get there with him. I’d like to be able to make love to him, to drive him insane, to make him forget his name the first time we fuck. I don’t think you can do that right out of the gates so to speak. But I think I’ll save being fucked for him, so he’ll be my first at something.”

“I think that’s a great approach. Especially if the guy is older and has more experience. He’s done the fumbling, he has put up with the premature ejaculation already, probably. Surprising him by rocking his world would be great.”

“And I’ll start by rimming him until he’s a puddle of goo. Want to help me practice?”

Earl grinned. “Cast the spell, firs… Wow. Wandless, and wordless. Very nice. I just don’t have the power…”

“Assume the position, pretty boy,” said Harry.

Earl complied, smiling in anticipation. Harry pretty much followed the pattern Earl had used on him, coming down his back, massaging his arse, smacking and pinching, and sliding down his tongue. He was surprised to feel no repulsion, no hesitation. The small star shaped pucker was just too much temptation, and he couldn’t wait to lave it, lick it, circle it, fuck it with his tongue. He loved the noises Earl was making, loved the incredible softness of the walls inside, loved the musk, the surprisingly sweet taste on his tongue, the folds opening for him.

He held the hole open with his thumbs to be able to tongue further in, to wiggle deep. He sucked at the entrance, licked and probed with a finger, then two, while Earl was coming undone. He felt the prostate, enslaved Earl to his caresses, finally grabbed his cock and let him come, his tongue as deep in the sweet arse as possible, his fingers petting the lump that gave such pleasure. He loved Earls arse contracting on his tongue, loved the man’s howl, loved the hot cum in his hand. He removed his fingers, retrieved his tongue and sucked at the hole one more time.

He wanted to get behind that arse and fuck it so bad he shivered. He lay next to Earl and started jerking off.

“I’m so hard! I wanted to fuck you so bad, just get on my knees and slide in. Oh, fuck. I can’t wait to do this to him. Oh god, just to be inside his body, caressing that bump with my cock, holding him in my hand, making him call my name…”

“Harry! Yes, Harry, fuck me, fuck me hard,” whispered Earl in his ear completing his fantasy. Harry was looking at a white back and a mess of black hair in his mind, a thin body, bony and beautiful…

“Come with me Harry, come! Ah, so good! Ahhhh!” Severus whispered in his ear. Harry lost it and came, hard, the cum landing on his breastbone. A warm comforter covered him and he was gone.

His dreams were filled with the potion master kissing him passionately, saying, “not yet, Harry, not yet. But I see you, I see you.”

Harry woke up to a hand shacking his shoulder gently. Earl. He smiled and opened his eyes. Earl was smiling too.

“It’s six, Harry. I fell asleep. I have to leave for work in a half hour. I figured we could shower and have breakfast together.”

Harry rolled out of bed. “That sounds like such a great plan!”

A hand job, a shower, tea, toast and fruit and a selective obliviation later, (not of what, but of whom the night before had happened with), and Harry apparated back to Hogwarts’ gate. He jogged up the path, went to his room, changed to Wizard wear (light grey trousers, straight collar shirt, dark blue vest with silver unicorns) and his school robes and made it to Transfiguration just in time.

Hermione laughed at him. “You look so fine. You have that ’I love sex and I’m good at it’ aura.”

He leaned to her and whispered in her ear, “I love sex, and I am good at it, that’s why!”

They cracked up.

“Mr. Potter? Miss Granger? Would you mind directing your energies to this morning‘s task or does more chatting need to be done?”

“Sorry Professor.”

“My apologies, Professor.”

Harry transfigured the glass on his desk into a canary, as requested, a NEWT level transfiguration. He used his wand, though he did it wordlessly, mostly because he’d forgotten the spell. McGonagall looked at him and rolled her eyes. He grinned at her, and saw a twitch in her mouth. For the rest of the lesson, his pretty canary sang away, perched on his shoulder, as Harry reviewed for the written part of the coming NEWTS.

It took about forty minutes, but eventually, Hermione’s canary perched on his other shoulder, and entered a duet with his.

“You’re getting stronger all the time, Harry.”

“I know.”

“When did it start? I mean, you’ve always had plenty of magic, but this wandless, wordless stuff only started this year.”

“I used my wand.”

“Because you don’t want people to know you don’t need to.”

“I don’t know, Hermione. It’s like it comes naturally now. I can just focus my magic and tell it what to do. I use the spells, usually, but sometimes, I just think about what I want to accomplish. I was wondering… I was wondering if perhaps I inherited some of Voldemort’s magic, though it doesn’t feel dark at all.”

“Back to the chit-chat you two?” said McGonagall who had quietly come behind them.

They both jumped guiltily.

“Nice birds,” she said. “But unless you plan to take them to your dorms in a cage, please change them back to glasses. Oh, and Mr. Potter, we do have a Defence Against the Dark Arts Master at Hogwarts. You might want to ask him about your… problem and your hypothesis.”

For a few days, Harry thought of nothing but how to approach Snape about his question. It was an opening. He wanted to make the most of it. Then it was Tuesday (Malfoy had explained to him about Tuesdays, and a bit about gay etiquette) and Harry went to the Three Broomsticks with Hermione and Ron.

They had been there about forty minutes when Marcus came in. He scanned the room and stopped on Harry, his eye contact burning hot. Harry had warned his friends he might disappear at some point in the evening, and just told them, “My date just arrived. I’m not in a hurry, but when I go to the bathroom later, I’m not coming back.”

“Are you sure it’s safe to go to his place, Harry?” asked Hermione for the twentieth time.

“Yeah. Quite sure. He swore a wizard oath to speak to no one about last time. He’s a really nice guy. And from the look he just gave me, I can tell you he is _not_ under Imperius…”

They had a great time, talking about the store and the new products, mostly, and about Ron’s plans for a mail order department. Harry thought the idea was brilliant. Finally, about an hour later, the butterbeer he had consumed was making a trip to the facilities unavoidable.

“Have a nice evening, you two. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t. And you know, Rosmerta does have rooms for rent. Just saying…” He left a grinning Hermione and a Ron, very red in the face, behind. He was washing his hands when Marcus came in, right after another man who was drop dead gorgeous, tall, blond, buff, young, with sparkling blue eyes and a killer smile.

He looked at Harry in the mirror. “You’re hot, green eyes. Wanna play?” Harry saw Marcus’s resigned look as he turned around and started to head toward the bar again.

Harry smiled at the man in the mirror. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I’m not interested. I have a better offer.”

It was Marcus’s turn to look at him questioningly in the mirror. Harry smiled at him, and Marcus’s face lit up.

“Whatever offer _he_ made, I can do better,” said the blond, smiling, and licking his lips.  
Harry’s wand slid down from his sleeve into his hand. “I doubt that, and at least he doesn’t work for Witch Weekly.” Before the blond had any chance to react, Harry had pointed his wand at him. “Obliviate!

The rumours you heard are untrue. I was here with my best friends, unaware of the day of the week. When you propositioned me, I was clueless, and first told you the time, then gave you directions to Zonko’s, then I went back and spent the entire evening with my friends. Eavesdropping, you heard me mention Ginny Weasley five times. Go back to the bar and drink six firewhiskies in the next hour and a half.”

The blond left the bathroom, humming a little tune.

“Gee, Harry. It makes me really glad I swore a wizard oath, last time. I’ll do it again tonight, OK?”

“Thanks, Marcus. I actually trust you, but I’ll take your oath.” He smiled. “I’ve been thinking about your kisses… a lot, and I’m really looking forward to tonight.” Harry pulled him into a stall and closed the door, kissing his lips lightly.

“He was gorgeous,” said Marcus, backing off a little, looking closely at Harry’s expressions. “You could have obliviated him afterwards.”

“You’re more my type. I don’t find blonds very attractive. And I had a great time last week. I want you, not him. Do you still mean what you said?”

Marcus pushed Harry’s hair back, and kissed him hungrily. After a few minutes, he stopped and grinned, “Oh, yeah. Definitely. Shall we go to the floo? I’ll go first if you don’t want us to be seen leaving together.”

“Why don’t you give me the apparation coordinates?”

“Uh… I leave in Coventry, Harry.”

“Why do you come here to… you know?”

“I’m here with a couple of mates. One of them lives here, and we all like Rosmerta, from our schooldays. I was in Charlie Weasley’s class.”

“But you were in Slytherin,” guessed Harry, quite sure of himself.

“So I was. You are in Gryffindor. And I still want you to fuck me.”

“What’s your last name?”

“Please, Harry. I like you. Please don’t let this crap get between us.”

“I won’t. I swear. You know my name. I just want to know yours.”

“Marcus Lestrange. The notorious Lestranges’ first cousin, and the only Lestrange without the mark.”

Harry kissed him, long and sweet. “Well, Marcus, if you give me your apparation coordinates, we can be in Coventry, getting naked, in about two minutes…”

Marcus smiled and gave him the coordinates.

The next day, Harry made it to Charms with seconds to spare, and his attention was definitely not on his work. He kept thinking back to the previous night, to the gorgeous mansion in Coventry, the beautiful antiques, the house elves, and the very large master bedroom with the enormous four-poster.

Harry took the lead as soon as they arrived, snapping his fingers as he banished their clothes to a chair. Marcus laughed and tackled him to the bed. He was lean, but rather soft, without much muscle definition, but it suited Harry just fine. They wrestled for a while, laughing. Harry ended up lying on top of Marcus’s back. On a whim, Harry cast ‘Sexualitas Revelio’. A broad red band, a medium orange band, a thin white band, a grey band.

“Give it up, Marcus, you’re mine. Don’t make me tie you up…” He flipped Marcus over, using both his superior physical strength and a little magic. Marcus was panting, his eyes blown. Harry caressed his face gently. “But maybe I’ll tie you up anyway… would you like that Marcus?”

“Oh, god! Yes, please…” said Marcus, panting, his cock so hard it was rising from his belly.  
In the next moment, ropes were binding his limbs to the four posts. Harry pinched his nipples, hard, and Marcus said again, “Oh, god!”

A quiet “Novem Torpeo” later, and Harry swallowed Marcus’s cock to the root, without warning, and gave him the blowjob of a life time. He waited until the man’s balls were tight and his cock was vibrating before pulling off, making Marcus cry out in frustration.

Harry magically flipped him over and unbound his legs, raising Marcus’s arse up before he had the time to rub himself to orgasm on the bedspread. He did to him what he had done to Earl, going down is body, the scratches and the bites just a bit more pronounced. After a wandless and wordless “Rectum et colonia, vacuo et tergeo”, he followed the crease of his arse down, and made love to his hole.

Marcus was completely undone and Harry’s cock was harder than he thought it had ever been. He accioed the lube he had in his jean’s pocket, and lovingly prepared Marcus. It was beautiful, arousing, marvellous. Finally, he completely unbound the man with a ‘Finite Incantatem’, which also returned his hair to its proper colour as he pushed inside him, gently, slowly, tenderly.

“Yes, Yes, thank you, oh god! Thank you!” said Marcus, evidently liking that development.

In Marcus’s arse to his balls, he reflected that though he had always thought the most marvellous revelation he’d ever received about himself was that he was a wizard, he now had to change his mind. The best thing to ever happen to him was to find out that he was gay. He started moving, angling his hips to run over the bump he had teased with his fingers, and Marcus cried out. Harry found his bearing, resisted the need to come, and found his rhythm, fucking Marcus deep and hard, his whole body vibrating with the impossible pleasure of it.

He kept them both in that perfect state for as long as he could, but his body rebelled. He put his lubricated hand around Marcus’s cock, and slammed into him hard enough to push him in and out of his fist. He felt the splatter of cum on his fingers, and let himself go, flying high, his psyche reorganized and remade by the experience. His whole being cried out for Severus, though only a wordless scream passed his lips. He collapsed, half on his lover, half on the pillow next to him. Marcus opened his eyes, smiling, catching his breath.

“I am so in love with you, right now,” said Marcus, chuckling.

“That’s your cock talking,” replied Harry, laughing as well, totally in love with Marcus, but not fooled for one second.

“That’s where my brain is at the moment. You’ve disconnected the other.”

“I can honestly say the same.” They chuckled.

“Let’s go to sleep. Stay in my arse, ok?”

“OK.”

They pulled the covers over themselves and Marcus doused the lights. Harry silently locked the door and warded the room tight.

He dreamt that Professor Dumbledore, alive and well, was telling him Severus Snape needed Harry’s essence to recover fully from Nagini’s bite: Only that would fully bring him back. He was asking him to fuck Snape as a favour. Harry endeavoured to prove to Snape that it was no favour, but the thing he wanted most in the world. His hard cock was inside Snape, and he was fucking him hard and fast, gliding over his prostate again and again, whispering in the man’s ear how much he loved him and wanted this, as Snape was calling his name in his pleasure.

He had his hand in the man’s hair and at some point woke up to the reality that he was fucking Marcus deep and hard, and that the man beneath him was very close to orgasm. He snuck his hand under Marcus’s body and grabbed his cock, and Marcus came, helplessly. Harry felt Marcus’s orgasm as the muscles of the man’s rectum contracted with the pulses of his ejaculation. It felt good enough to carry him over, and he too reached his release, shivering and moaning with it.

He pulled out gently and lay on his back, still shivering. Marcus, propped on his elbow, smiled at him in the grey light of dawn.

“You are an amazing lover,” he said. “I cannot remember the last time I felt so good.” He kissed Harry shoulder. “And you are so fucking beautiful. I could really easily fall for you. I don’t think we should do this again unless you want more than a fuck buddy, because I don’t think I can stay just friends.”

Harry caressed his face. “If I wasn’t already in love with someone, I could easily see falling for you. I’m so glad we met. I’m sorry this can’t be more than what it is. Can I ask you about last night?”

“Sure. What about last night?”

“Did you enjoy it because of the blowjob, the rimming or the fucking?”

“Ah. Constructive criticism… The blowjob was amazing. God, that deep throating! The sucking! I don’t know where you learned to do some of this, but you learn very well. The rimming was the best I’ve ever had. I thought I was going to come about fifty times, or die if I didn’t… you made me want your cock so bad, I thought I’d howl if you didn’t fuck me NOW. But the fucking! God! I know it was your first, but from the prep to the orgasm, it was… indescribable. I’ve never been so close to coming for so long. You made it last and last and last and I swear I was in heaven. I came with my entire body, so hard I thought I might have shorted my brain. I was perfectly happy to be a blissed out moron if that was the case.  
Yep, the fucking was definitely the best part. And the rimming. And the blowjob. All three.” He chuckled.

Harry smiled. “Thanks. I’m glad I wasn’t awful for my first time, and that I gave you pleasure.”

Marcus kissed him. “If Snape is stupid enough not to want you, come back this way, OK?” He laughed at Harry’s shocked expression. “You called his name as you fucked me in your sleep this morning. Lucky bastard. He deserves you though. He is an extraordinary man. Don’t worry Harry, he is far from stupid.  
He will know a good thing when he sees it and he will grab you and never let you go.”

“I hope so. I love him.”

“I figured that much.” He reached for his wand on the night table, and handed it to Harry grip first.

“I give you my wizard oath that I will never let anyone know of anything that happened between us last evening, last night and this morning. I will carry it in my heart and never share it with anyone.  
Whatever was said in confidence, or in the heat of the moment, will remain forever between us only.”

“I accept your wizard oath,” said Harry, taking a hold of the wand. As before, a binding ribbon wrapped itself around Marcus’s mouth and hands, but also around his torso. Then it disappeared without a trace into his body.

“Thank you Marcus.”

It had been an amazing night. Harry felt confidant that if (no! When!) the time came, he could make love to Severus Snape and make him glad to be alive. Now if only the man would just notice him!

Half the charm lesson had gone by, and Harry had not taken a single note. He wasn’t even sure what they were talking about today. They switched to the practical half of the lesson, and evidently they were working on water repellent charms, as applied to objects and people. He had practiced that charm on his glasses for years while playing Quidditch and as Flitwick passed by, cast a very potent “Impervius” on Hermione, so that when the diminutive professor let loose the equivalent of a bucket of water over her head, not one drop touched her. She had done a decent job on Harry as well. Only his socks seemed to get wet.

“Well done, Mr. Potter! Not discreet enough to use in the Muggle world, but she could enjoy a dry walk during the worst typhoon. Next time, hold back a little.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well, Miss Granger, though you forgot his socks. You might want to dry them for him. Good, good…”

“Good god, Mr. Longbottom! Where did the water go?”

“Greenhouse three, sir. As I cast the charm, I remembered I had to go water the courgettes after class. I guess I just banished the water there…”

“Well, why don’t you do so for the entire floor and save yourself a chore, though once again, it would not do in the Muggle world. Mr Finch-Fletchley! Mr. Longbottom is soaked to the bones. Are you even trying? Do you think you can handle drying him up?”

Hermione dried Neville as Justin seemingly could not be bothered, too busy reading something. Harry was surprised. Wasn’t the Hufflepuff supposed to study Charms at Cambridge? He seemed less than passionate about it. He finally looked up and apologized to Neville. “Sorry, Longbottom. I’ve a lot on my mind…”

“It’s all right,” said Neville, smiling back.

After charms, Neville, Harry and Hermione all had a free period. They went back to Gryffindor to drop off the day’s books, having only Herbology left later. They sat on the closest couch near the fire to chat, since Neville did not have to go early.

“I noticed Snape staring at you, Harry,” remarked Neville. “I think he really likes your new look.”

Hermione giggled. “Everybody has been staring at you. You look wonderful, Harry.”

Harry shrugged. “I like my new look. I do think Snape noticed, but he certainly hasn’t done anything about it.”

“He doesn’t even know you’re gay, does he?” Asked Neville.

“No. I guess not. It doesn’t really come up all that often in DADA class.”

“I think Neville’s right. I think that should be your next step: To let him know you are available, and possibly, to hint that you’re interested,” said Hermione.

“Easier said than done.”

Neville thought out loud. “It would be great if you had some excuse to go talk to him about something, but it’s not as if you’re having problems in his class. Even I love it and am doing great.”

“Well, there is something,” said Hermione. “You could even say McGonagall advised you to consult him…”

“What is it?” asked Neville.

“Uh…”

“Hermione! This is Neville. I don’t care if he knows! My magic has grown stronger. Is growing stronger, I think, all the time, and I’m wondering why. I was a bit concerned I had taken on some of Voldemort’s when he died.”

“Well, that’s nonsense. Your magic is brilliant, pure, crystalline. Beautiful. Your aura is all white light. It bathes everything in this cleansing radiance. You can’t get magic from someone else anyway, otherwise there would be no Squibs, would there…” said Neville, matter of factly.

“You _see_ magic? You see people’s Aura?” asked Harry, confused.

“Yes, ever since…” Neville turned bright red. “Well. The first time Luna and I were intimate, uh… it was, hmm… It was really, really good. We, uh… We kind of ended up, well, together. Not just physically, but inside each other’s head. I saw the world through her eyes and learned her magic from the inside, and she felt the same. She can grow anything, now, and I see auras, and weird magical forces no one else seems to notice. I know what she thinks, and feel what she feels if I want. She’s in me, and me in her… all the time. And the sex… God, you have no idea…”

Hermione smiled at him. “You’re bonded.”

“Yes. We are. We wouldn’t have needed to get married, but we didn’t know, obviously. You have no idea how amazing the world is through her eyes. But anyway, Harry, your magic _is_ growing stronger, all the time. You should talk to Snape about it. Not only will he probably know why, because, let’s face it, the man knows everything, but it’s a great opening. Surely, it’s personal enough that you can squeeze mentioning you’re gay in there…”

It was quite late when Harry worked up the courage to go knock on Snape’s door again. Last time had been such a let down. This was worse. Snape wasn’t even in. Harry was about to leave when the man showed up, his welcome as warm as ever. An appointment. Right. Harry could not help but smile when Snape called him back.

“Mr. Potter. You are here now, and I am at leisure. Come in. An exception, Mr. Potter, not to be repeated.”

They entered the man’s sitting room. There was a large desk, walls covered in books and a sitting area in front of the fire, the dominant colour green, but none of it Slytherin green. The walls were light lime, the leather-bond books forest green, the draperies grass green velvet lined in lime green silk, the enormous rug a Persian mix of hundreds of shades contrasted by tobacco brown, the colour of the deep leather furniture. There were beautiful decanters, glasses, bowls of cut crystal decorating the fireplace and the coffee table, and a large painting of a mansion at the end of a lawn bordered by ancient oaks above the fireplace.

The effect was absolutely lovely, the most beautiful room Harry had ever seen. He turned around on himself taking it all in. He loved it, just loved it.

“Does my interior decorating meet with your approval, Mr. Potter?” asked Snape, probably indicating his behaviour verged on rudeness.

Harry just smiled at him, openly and honestly. “I love this room. The lime walls, the different materials, the carpet, the green harmony. It’s so beautiful, just… lovely.”

Snape looked taken aback, as if no one ever mentioned it, or as if he’d been sure of Harry’s disapproval. He smiled back at Harry, completely throwing him off, because the slightly vulnerable expression made his face even more beautiful. “Thank you, Mr. Potter. Any moment of peace I have known at Hogwarts has been in this room. I love it as well. Shall we have tea?”

“Yes, please, sir. Thank you.”

They sat down, Harry on a settee, and Snape in a deep reading chair in front of the fire. A small bat eared elf appeared with a tea tray with a plate of shortbread and one of Harry’s favourite chocolate biscuit.

“A snack, Shig? At this time of night?”

The house elf winked at Harry and blinked out. Snape looked at Harry with an eyebrow raised. “My elf likes you, apparently. Biscuits are not often forthcoming. To what do I owe this rather late visit, Mr. Potter?”

“It is a late one because, well… I am terribly intimidated by you, still, and had to work up the courage to come. As for being here at all, I was hoping you might be able to help me understand what has been happening to me these past few months.”

“Intimidated? Do you still see me as the ogre, Mr. Potter?”

“Oh, no, sir. I admire you. Respect you. I’m rather in awe of you, really.”

“Have you anything to gain from this flattery?”

Harry had decided before coming that he would not accept even the smallest mockery, or the slightest put down from Snape. He would not let him derail the conversation into their habitual ridiculous and senseless conflict.

“I suppose I should have expected your feelings towards me to be unchanged and therefore your immediate interpretation of my honesty as some calculated kissing up. Though I am grateful that at least this time, you allowed me entrance into your quarters, this is not the tone I was hoping for in this conversation.”

He stood up. “I shall make an appointment to see you in your office and will be more careful next time to keep the conversation away from any personal matters.”

Snape rubbed his face with his hands. “My apologies, Mr. Potter. Please sit down again. Old habits die hard. And no, I do not still think of you as a thoughtless brat, the carbon copy of your father. I have noticed that you have grown into being your own man, a man I do not… dislike. Why do you seek my counsel this evening?”

Snape had apologized! He saw Harry as a man, one he did not dislike. Harry’s heart soared.

“Since last summer, my magic had gotten progressively more powerful, as well as easier for me to handle. The people who know me best have noticed, and a friend with unusual sensibility has visually seen it grow.”

“Miss Lovegood?”

“Her bonded husband, Neville. They have acquired each other’s abilities since their bonding.”

“Ah. One soul, shared by two people, reunited. A rare phenomenon, which explains both their previous apparent vacuity. According to tradition, they should live long and remarkably happy and productive lives, a blessing to all who know them. But sorry, I digress. Please go on.”

“I can easily cast spells wandlessly and wordlessly now when, even just a few month ago, it was a struggle to do one or the other. I am sure you have seen it in my duels. I was afraid I had somehow ‘inherited’ some of Voldemort’s magic, but Neville says that’s nonsense.”

Snape smiled. Harry’s stomach did a little flip. He loved that smile. He wanted to kiss that smile.  
Snape said, “Let’s ask the Minister to declare today a National Holliday: I wholeheartedly agree with Mr. Longbottom.” And Harry was shocked into a chuckle. Snape had made a joke.

Snape smirked, but went on seriously. “Tell me, Mr. Potter, can you recall precisely when you started noticing your increase in power?”

“Not precisely, no. Sometime this summer. Mid-summer, maybe?”

“Did something unusual occur at the time?”

Harry thought about it. Well, they had been in Australia… Yes!! There was his opening! His perfect chance.

“Well, I was travelling in Australia with Hermione and Ron. I’d never been anywhere before… And though I am sure it’s completely unrelated, it happened at about the same time as the discovery of my homosexuality. Though I think that realization came so late due more to the fact that at the time when people are preoccupied with puberty, I was preoccupied with Voldemort.”

Snape’s facial expression and dark gaze were unreadable, but the man was perfectly quiet as he stared at Harry for what seemed an eternity. Then he asked, perfectly seriously, “Are you quite sure you are homosexual, Mr. Potter, or are you experimenting, as your classmates did at puberty? Or perhaps, may there be a possibility you might be bisexual?”

“Oh, I am absolutely positive. Certainly not experimenting, and absolutely not bisexual. I'm queer.”  
Harry did not want there be any doubt whatsoever in Snape’s mind. He continued, “I'm gay. I'm a faggot, a poof, a pansy, I'm a butt pirate, a backside artist. I'm an arse bandit. I lift those shirts. I'm a buggering, uphill gardener. Oh, and a top. Definitely a top.”

The corner of Snape’s mouth lifted in an almost smile, but soon he looked serious again. “Quite… Well. To answer your question: Most wizard’s magical powers grow, from birth to the end of puberty, usually until around the age of seventeen, which is why it is the age at which a wizard becomes an adult. Power grows exponentially, but for most people, the increase in power occurs at the same time as an increase in knowledge due to a concurrent magical education, and they just assume their increased abilities are due to their increase in knowledge on how to use their magic.

“For some rare individuals, the growth continues for a few more months beyond the average age, and being exponential, becomes more and more noticeable. The growth is most rapid right before it ceases. It is unheard for any wizard to have it continue beyond the age of twenty-one.

“You have always been a fairly powerful wizard. Your continued increase in power is now extremely noticeable as it is carrying it to levels barely ever reached. As it is, your magical strength puts you on par with only a few, rare individuals. Should it continue much longer, you may surpass them and become one of the most powerful wizards alive, perhaps the strongest.

“It happens, Mr. Potter. The most powerful wizard has to be _someone_. The past two years have seen the passing of two of the strongest wizards that ever lived. Magic abhors a vacuum. Then again, your increase in power might dwindle tomorrow, and you might not be _the_ strongest, but just be one of a few most powerful. As I am. As is Lucius Malfoy, as was your Godfather, and Tom Riddle, and Albus Dumbledore, Gellert Grindewald and of course, Merlin. All of us well above average in power, and every one of us… homosexuals. Only an interesting coincidence, I’m sure.”

“Wow. Really? Professor Dumbledore was… And Lucius Malfoy? Yes, well. Interesting. So, nothing nefarious; just business as usual, just another _why-should-I-be-like-everyone-else–in-anything-whatsoever_ kind of thing. At least this one, I actually enjoy. I like the ease with which I can do magic now, and Merlin knows I love being bent. I’m sure things will stabilize soon enough.” Harry caught himself babbling and looked at Snape apologetically, though the man did not seem to object. “Sorry,” he said, a little embarrassed. “I’m thinking out loud. Thank you for your help, Professor. Thank you very much for your time.” Harry got up, ready to go.

Walking him to the door, Snape said, “You are welcome Mr. Potter. I am glad I could put your mind at rest. Despite what I said earlier, feel free to come to me again in my quarters if you have any more concerns or questions. If it is an inconvenient time, I shall let you know.”

“I truly appreciate it, sir.”

Harry was about to open the door, but Snape stayed his hand. “May I ask you a personal question, Mr. Potter, just to satisfy my prurient curiosity?”

“I may not answer, but you may ask,” replied Harry, wondering what was coming.

“Is there… someone special in your life at this time?”

Harry’s heart beat faster. Why would Snape ask something like that unless… “No. I’m not seeing anyone. Just enjoying Tuesday nights.”

Snape chuckled. “Who doesn’t? Good night Mr. Potter.”

“Good night, Professor.” He stepped into the corridor, and decided to throw caution to the wind… He looked back at Snape, who stopped closing the door and raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I’m not seeing anyone because I am in love with someone. Someone I am terribly intimidated by, someone I admire and respect. Someone I am rather in awe of. I’m hoping he will take the first step…”

Feeling almost faint with daring, Harry turned and walked away. He did not remember how he had gotten there when he stood in front of the pink lady. “School ties,” he said, and was let in. Hermione was still up, waiting for him. He grabbed her and twirled her around as she giggled.

“It went well, then, I take it?” she asked.

He smiled stupidly at her and gave her a blow by blow.

“Oh, Harry! It went very well! First, let’s get out of the way the relief that you are no more an odd ball than usual, and then move on to the important parts. He told you he was gay too! And oh! _“Is there… someone special in your life at this time?”_ Oh! My god, Oh! My god, Oh! My! God! And you, all Gryffindorish and challenging, throwing the gauntlet! Oh! My god! And we have DADA first thing in the morning. You are wearing _The_ pants, Harry! With _That_ shirt! Definitely!”

Harry laughed at her. “ _The_ pants? With _That_ shirt?”

She hit his arm. “Shut up. You know very well the ones I mean. The tannish-gold suede pants that cup your cock so well I could tell you weren’t circumcised, the “Oops, I didn’t notice you could see right through it” blousy shirt, and that Gryffindor cravat Earl spent fifteen minutes teaching you how to tie, with your dark red vest and your new robes open, so that you look like the sexiest Mr. Darcy alive…”

“Who the hell is Mr. Darcy?”

“Oh! My god! You’ve never read “Pride and Prejudice”? Oh, Harry, It’s the most romantic, the most… You jerk! We watched the movie together on the plane to Australia!”

Harry was cracking up as she was hitting him with her little fists, laughing too.

“Let’s go to bed,” Harry said, finally, “or I might just sleep right through DADA!”

“Do wait ‘till morning to shower! And don’t forget to shave! and wear that cologne I got you for you birthday, but not too much, it’s smell good when you sweat!, and go commando…”

“Yes Mother!” said Harry, going up the stairs as she enumerated her recommendations. She was as excited as he was. He loved that girl!

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Severus closed his door and rested his head against it, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

_“I’m not seeing anyone because I am in love with someone. Someone I am terribly intimidated by, someone I admire and respect. Someone I am rather in awe of. I’m hoping he will take the first step…”_

Harry was in love with him. Harry was hoping he would take the first step.

_“…Oh, and a top. Definitely a top.”_

Harry was a top. Harry spoke of Tuesdays. He understood the rules, and probably knew exactly what he was about. Harry would fuck him into oblivion and back, he was certain.

He had been hopelessly in love with Harry Potter for three years, and in one evening, everything had changed. The dream was his to grab and make reality, a beautiful young man who loved him, a reward for his years of sacrifice…

Oh God! Oh dear, dear god! Justin! Guilt rushed over Severus’s euphoria, drowning it completely. He was such an ungrateful bastard! How could he have forgotten his sweet Justin so completely, only hours after the two of them had sex for the first time? (Lousy sex, said a voice, which weirdly sounded like Draco Malfoy.)

Justin had loved him, watched over him, watched him descend into depression, killing himself slowly but surely, and he had broken the cycle, had let him know someone cared, had given him back his taste for food, his few friends, his love of brewing, his sex life. He just wanted to be loved in return. And he was beautiful, with his golden brown ringlets, his blue eyes, his golden skin, his youthful body, his pretty cock, (Pretty _little_ cock, said Draco), and his endearing inexperience… (Is that what you call a lousy fuck, Severus? asked Draco.)

Why the fuck was Draco Malfoy in his head?

Har… Potter had been a dream for so long. But his Justin was not a dream. He was a man who cared for him, who wanted him. He was reality; and a nice reality at that. Severus went to his desk and reread the last of Justin’s message. He smiled and went to get ready for bed.

If he drank some Quick Sleep, it was because it was so late and he wanted to make sure to fall asleep right away, not because he did not want to re-live and juxtapose the two parts of his evening, not at all. And if the next day he showered, shampooing his hair thoroughly, and shaved, and wore his nicest robes, all the while reciting to himself all the ingredients in the school supply closet in reverse alphabetical order, it was not to prevent himself from examining what he was doing, but to keep his mind limber.

That at breakfast, he immediately sought a dark messy head at the Gryffindor table was just a left over habit of years of watching the brat like a hawk, and when the green eyes met his brazenly, and slowly blinked, and he got instantly hard, well… who the fuck knows what that was about.

Severus had to scan the Hufflepuff table three times before finding his sweet Justin, who was staring at his porridge pensively, drawing shapes in it with his spoon. He had a very nice profile. Not once did he look up towards the head table, completely absorbed in his thoughts. Severus would have given anything to know what they were.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Justin had not slept well. He had dreamt of Draco making love to him like Blaise did, passionately, selflessly, adoringly, of Draco calling his name as he came, crying out his love for him, of Draco telling him excitedly about Malfoy Manor, where they could live in leisure after school, their greatest excesses not even making a dent in the Malfoy fortune. He’d woken up his belly covered in cum and had cried bitterly about the unfairness that Draco’s best friend, and not Draco, should be the one to love him.  
It was a comedy of error. Draco could not love him because he was in love with Severus Snape. Severus’s heart was Justin’s and he could not love Draco. And Justin was insanely in love with Draco, therefore unable to love Snape. Somewhere, fate was laughing its head off.

The day before, in Charms, Justin had reviewed Snape’s finances, or at least the parts available from public domain. The ugly old bastard was worth a mint. Luckily, since Severus’s grandfather, who had married into the family, had pissed away all the liquidities, the bulk of the Prince estate was entailed to the male of the line. Severus, half blood that he was, was the first male heir in five generations. A mansion in Devonshire, a house in Camden, several farms in Scotland, a knitting factory in Lambeth, and a huge farm in Australia were all his to do as he pleased.

From Dumbledore, as his sole heir, he’d inherited a cottage by the sea in Wales, a small manor in Godric’s Hollow, a small chateau and attached vineyards in a place called Beaunes, in France, and surprisingly, an apartment in some house on Fifth Avenue in New York. There were also a bunch of shares in some fruit growing company unoriginally called “Apple”, and a huge investment in some South American firm of some sort called “Amazon”.

Justin planned on asking his older brother Leslie, who had an MBA and was running the Finch corporation since their father’s semi-retirement, if those were any good. Either way, it was already much more than what Blaise could expect to inherit from his mother. Idly, Justin wondered if he could ever convince Snape to bleach his teeth and have a nose job. Surely braces would be too much to hope for. He did have great cheekbones and intriguing ebony eyes. A good haircut could do wonders to show those off.

Snape, that ugly git, probably had never had anyone as pretty as Justin in his bed before, but that would only go so far. Justin _knew_ his blowjobs were fabulous, and that he was a great kisser, but to wrap the greasy git around his little finger, Justin had to learn to top properly.

But it was so hard! Especially with Snape! He had to picture an arse he’d like to fuck, (Potter’s! Yum!) to get hard enough to get it in, but then it felt so good, and the thought of Potter’s arse, and how was he supposed to not come? It was so unfair! He was a bottom, not a top! Snape was such a bastard! How could he be a bottom? He was a control freak! Oh, bother. If only Draco… No. No more dreaming about Draco. That was water under the bridge.

Well, it was time to go to transfiguration. Ooooh… Potter was getting up, Justin would just wait a minute and check him out. Holly fucking shit! Those trousers were god’s gift to queers! You could see his beautiful cock, at least eight inches _at rest!_ perfectly. And that shirt! Justin would bet Harry had no clue how transparent it was anywhere it touched skin. You could see a delicious pink nipple, the shadow of a six-pack, oh fuck! The treasure trail… And here he was, completely oblivious of how gorgeous he was, joking with that stupid bitch Hermione.

What the fuck? Why was Draco looking at Potter this way? No, no, no, no, no, no, no! He was not supposed to look at _Potter_ this way! He was supposed to look at Snape that way! Snape! The love of his life! The experienced older man he’d wanted for years! The reason why Justin could never have him! Not fucking Potter! What did Potter have that Justin didn’t, to tear Draco’s eyes away from Snape?

_-_-_-_-_-_

Standing on his chair, the diminutive Professor Flitwick was whacking Severus’s back, helping the piece of toast, which had started down the wrong path, to find its way where it belonged. Finally, Severus had a long sip of tea, dried his watery eyes on his napkin, and took a deep breath.

“Thank you, Filius…”

No one else had noticed his problem and its resolution, because all eyes were on Harry, the reason he had swallowed out of turn in the first place. Those trousers! Suede, tight, lovingly displaying the man’s cock in all its glory (eight inches, at rest!), and that shirt! Potter had probably worn an undershirt when he had bought it and not realized its material revealed anything it touched, a walking peep show…  
Draco Malfoy intercepted Potter near the door and as they talked, Potter buttoned a muted red vest, which matched his perfectly tied cravat in muted Gryffindor colours. Now, he looked like a more perfect Mr. Darcy, standing next to Draco’s Wickham. Why had Severus never noticed before how Wizard clothes resembled those of early nineteenth century Britain? With bitter amusement, Severus decided that with his own black get-up, he looked a lot more like Mr. Collins than he did Elizabeth Bennett…

Though he understood why all too well, he felt helpless dread when he saw that the looks Draco had theretofore reserved for him were now directed at Potter.

The class with the seventh year Gryffindors and Slytherins was sweet torture, Severus’s eyes constantly drawn to Harry, his cock immediately reacting, his forcing himself to look away, walking around half hard until he forgot again and his eyes sought Harry once more, starting the whole cycle again.

After learning to target curses thrown their way with counter-curses in lieu of using a shield, they were now learning to physically avoid them by stepping aside, spinning away, jumping back, or plain ducking, though it was not advised to do so as ducking took time to recover from and hindered further movements.

In real battle situations, robes were an advantage, the folds of material disguising the exact position of  
the opponent and containing at least some spell protection, but for the purpose of learning, the school robes were shed so the students could be plainly observed.

Severus, unusually, had paired Miss Granger with Potter. He just could not stand the thought of Draco’s eyes intent on Harry’s body for two hours. Miss Granger wore a long flowing skirt under her robes, looking extremely feminine, and Severus had to admit, very pretty. He was shocked when she did not hesitate to remove it, and realized that the black turtleneck and black leggings she wore underneath were perfectly acceptable clothing on their own.

The tight clothes showed off her lithe and willowy figure to its best advantage, the delicacy of her bone structure paired with quick and supple strength. More than one of the boys did a double take, including Draco Malfoy.

Under his robes, Harry had been hiding the perfection of his well-muscled arse and thighs, the narrowness of his hips, the breadth of his shoulder. He was… God! He was so, so beautiful. Off also came the cravat, and he and Miss Granger started duelling.

Always fair, Harry used his wand for every spell, but did use some non-spoken curses and charms since Miss Granger was equally able to do so. Both were very fast and very limber, knowing each other too well not to anticipate some of each other’s moves. Potter was all feline grace and tightly controlled power, his motions fluid and harmonious, his magic a well-honed tool. Side by side they would be a force to be reckoned with. They had been so already, hadn’t they? They were beautiful to watch.

Draco Malfoy was fighting Miss Weasley, and she was vicious. She used simple spells in quick succession to annoy and distract her opponent, and then went for the kill. Though she threw even more, which Draco deftly avoided, she managed to hit him with a bat bogey hex, frightfully good, an itchy jinx, a shoulder tap trick, a hair growing spell and finally a trousers shrinking jinx in about two minutes flat, hardly slowed by the reversal of her knee joints and her suddenly scaly skin. She had Draco trying to squeeze out of his trousers when she hit him full on with an Incarcero, doubled with an Impedimenta. As she approached her tied up foe, calmly reversing his curses on her, she was kind enough to counter the shrinking pants jinx and stop the growing hair spell, both of which he had not yet neutralized.

She stood over him with a grin. “All right, there, Malfoy? The long hair really suits you. You look a lot like your Dad, and he’s a very handsome man.”

“Peachy, Weaselett. If I could have used a shield, our positions would be reversed, you know that.”

“Of course I do. But one has to take advantage of the situation when one can.”

“What a terribly Slytherin attitude for a Gryffindor!” Draco chided.

“I grew up with six older brothers _plus Harry_. You will not find a more Slytherin Weasley out there. Ready for freedom?”

“Please.”

She cancelled the curses and helped him off the floor. He smiled, moved to her, held her head and kissed her wildly. When he stepped back, laughing, she was fully immobilized by a wandless, wordless Petrificus Totalis. “Gotcha!” he said, very pleased with himself. It was his turn to use Incarcero, and he broke her tree like fall with a well-placed cushioning charm. Freed from the Petrificus, she laughed without resentment.

“I’m evidently nowhere near Slytherin enough for the likes of you, Draco Malfoy. Merlin, can you kiss! A git you are, but a fantastic kisser!”

He grinned at her. “Anytime, little girl, anytime.”

“No offense Malfoy, but I’ll pass. My fiancé might object.”

“Michael knows that all’s fair in love and war…”

The Greengrass girls had done mincemeat out of Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, but Neville Longbottom was holding par with Blaise Zabini. They were verbally teasing each other, but without insults, fighting fairly and extremely well, using all they had learned that year.

Paying full attention, he realized that all the seventh-year Gryffindors and Slytherins, though very competitive, were duelling without any true anger or resentment. It was a surprisingly pleasant development. Severus knew that Septima had done a lot of individual and group counselling with the snakelings, disguised as private detentions or as lectures on behaviour. She was a brilliant Head of House.

Improvements had started at home, with his housemates’ attitudes toward Draco changing from hatred or resentment to acceptance, and had spread to a general change of behaviour of the Slytherins towards other Houses. It helped tremendously that Draco was now friendly with Potter, and that there were inter-house couples and friendships.

Most duelling partners were taking a break from the physical demands of this particular lesson, but somehow, three groups had gotten together, and one fierce battle was still raging, with unusual allies.

Granger, Malfoy and Longbottom were fighting Potter, Weasley and Zabini. Both sets of fighters made strong teams, relying on each other and using each other’s strengths while also using their personal knowledge of their opponents to full measure. There were squeals, laughter, yelps, taunts, and frighteningly fast wand work.

Soon it started snowing heavily on the battle, around which Severus had prudently placed a large bubble shield against stray curses hitting the spectators. Harry glanced at him merrily, and Severus now knew where the snow had come from. Severus added a gale force wind, and froze some water on the floor, charming even more snow to fall.

Soon there were cries of “Let’s stop!”, “Let’s quit, I’m freezing!”, “Peace!”, “My wand for a jumper!”  
The bubble popped and winter completely disappeared, the six students laughing merrily, and hugging each other. Then something completely unforeseen happened.

Granger turned to him and said grinning, “This mock battle was brought to you by the students of the best DADA teacher Hogwarts has ever seen, (Hear, hear!) under whose tutelage we have gone from disorganized, uneven duellists, to the finest fighters each of us could become, (Yeah!) and thanks to whom we would be able to defend ourselves, our friends, and our families against anyone wishing us harm. We are all in your debt, Professor Snape. Thank you.”

And to Severus’s absolute astonishment, all the students stood, smiled at him and started clapping. As he looked from one face to the next, they all acknowledged him further, with a nod, a slight bow, a larger smile. The most surprising thing of all was that he knew they were telling the truth. That year, he had been a remarkable teacher. He smiled and bowed back to them. “Thank you,” he said, in the recovered silence. “It has been a joy and an honour to work with you all.” With perfect timing, the bell rang, and the students became students once more, rushing for their books and running out to their next class.

Potter was last to leave, his smile warming Severus, and his silhouette, in his perfectly fitting clothes, the stuff Severus’s dreams were made of. Already the seventh-year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaws were filing in, and at the front was Justin, who winked at him and not so discreetly rearranged his hardening cock’s position in his trousers. Severus was reminded that it was all thanks to Justin, that he owed that young man everything, and quickly smiled at him, before repeating the short lecture he had just given the previous class, and pairing the students for duelling.

Their strength and spirit were nowhere equal to that of the Gryffindors and Slytherins, naturally fiercely competitive, but they too showed very well, and Severus again felt pride in a job well done.

That evening, Justin returned, and as soon as the door closed, rushed into Severus’s arms to kiss him. He smelled of soap, and youth and sunshine, and though once more Severus wished they had talked a little, he took the young man to his room and made love to him, figuring that when it came to sex, the best way was to teach through example. He sucked him to orgasm, rimmed him to babbling, and prepared him before fucking him until the boy collapsed insensate, himself coming deep in the boy’s arse.

Severus could top. It was not Potion Science. It just was not what made him feel valued, fulfilled. As he lay next to the boy who was looking at him with awe, he felt empty and needy. He craved the sensation of completeness, of being possessed, owned, valued, that bottoming gave him.

“Nobody has ever made me feel this good,” said Justin. “You are amazing. Why would you want to bottom when you can top like this?”

“Because it is what I like best. You can do to me exactly what I did to you. You can make me feel just as good, you can top me just as well, it just takes practice. And it’s not such a bad thing to have to practice, is it?”

“But why can’t we do it like this every time?” whined Justin.

Severus looked at him to see if he was joking. Apparently not. “Today I concentrated on you, on making you feel good, on your pleasure. Sex, making love, is a game of give and take. I like, I need to be pleasured too.”

“Well, I blew you and fucked you last time, so we’re even, right?”

He was completely serious. Severus said, “And next time, it will be my turn, and now that you have been on the receiving end, I am sure you will do much better on the giving end.”

“I know I wasn’t that good at toping last time. You don’t have to rub it in.”

Not that good? That was a very kind description. “I am not rubbing it in. I was just pointing out that, having felt it from the other end today, you might be more aware, more able to do it well as the dominant partner, that’s all.”

“I still wish we could do it like this all the time. I don’t see why not. You came, didn’t you?”

“I also come when I masturbate. It doesn’t mean that’s all I ever want to do,” replied Severus, annoyed that apparently he was not reaching his teenage lover.

“Yeah. This was definitely way better than tossing off.” The young man smiled, put his head on Severus’s shoulder, and fell asleep.

Severus smiled ruefully. Justin was young and self-centered, but he had cared enough about him to notice him drowning, to reach out to him. There was more to this young man than a selfish lover. He fell asleep as well, loving the feel of the warm body next to his.

He woke up Justin after he’d showered, cleaned his teeth and gotten dressed, hating to disturb him because he was so warm and cute in his slumber, to send him back to his dorm. Justin dressed quietly, half asleep.

“Can I come back tonight? I want to put what I learned to good use,” he said, kissing Severus, mindless of his own morning breath.

“Sure,” said Severus, happy to hear it.

“See you tonight,” said Justin, smiling, as he left.

He was sweet. And perhaps he’s taken in what Severus had said, despite the appearances.

For the next two weeks, Justin came to Severus’s quarters every night. He was insistent they should take turns, though his progress in pleasing Severus was minimal. His blowjobs had not changed at all, generally pleasant but for the occasional tooth, but nowhere near satisfying. He declined to rim altogether, saying he hated it, but had started to prepare Severus by hand. If Severus came, it was thanks to the barely adequate hand job that accompanied Justin’s penetrations. The young man moved like an automaton, and came all too quickly.

For the next round, he felt no shame being spoiled by Severus’s attentions, though rimming was now off the menu. Justin had had the nerve to protest, but Severus had simply replied that he would start again when Justin did. They usually did both nightly, Justin rushing through the first to get to the moment when he spread himself out, looked at Severus with a happy smile, and said, “Your turn!”

Correcting papers, Severus sighed, and once again reread the note Justin had written to him weeks ago. It helped remind him of what was important in their relationship. They did talk, sometimes, and Justin had expressed quite clearly that he felt that Severus had given of himself enough, that it was time for him to take it easy, to do as he pleased. He had painted a lovely picture of them taking a year to travel, of Severus and he moving into Severus’ ancestral home and of Severus doing the potion research he loved so much. Severus had been touched by Justin’s description of him as a selfless warrior, done with fighting the good fight, and deserving of the spoils.

Severus was looking forward to going from one of his homes to the next with the well-travelled youth, whose parents had taken to many places. Justin spoke French fluently! He also knew a lot about wines. It would be marvellous to discover Burgundy with him. Justin always became so animated and happy thinking of their future together. The young man really loved him. If only… Oh, well. No relationship was ever perfect, certainly.

_-_-_-_-_-_

Harry was confused. After their supremely promising conversation, he often caught Snape’s hungry eyes on him. He would smile at him, and see the yearning in Severus’s face. Yet, the man made no move to approach him, to take their relationship further, to even confirm that there was such a thing.

Tuesdays, Harry went out with a mixed batch of friends, and found men to spend the night with easily, turning down the drinks offered him that came without coasters, having been told by Draco a coaster meant the offer was from a bottom. He always found a way to use the spell he and Hermione had uncovered in the library, and refined his technique to his partner’s preferences.

If, in the midst of sex, he particularly enjoyed something done to him, he always managed to engage in an exchange that taught him the new skill. He often made further dates with the men he met, meeting them after he and Hermione were done studying, and ended up having some form of sex almost every night. He liked when he received a wizard oath instead of obliviating his partners, but never hesitated to do so when necessary. He was getting frightfully efficient at it, excising memories with the precision of a well-trained surgeon.

He no longer found foot fetishes strange, having experienced from both ends the incredible pleasure to be had from massaging, kissing, lightly biting feet, and sucking on toes like small penises. Ears were marvellous, and for some, navels were a great source of pleasure, as were the palm of the hand, the inside of the elbow, the neck…

If he found a partner that way inclined, he could kiss forever. Lips and mouths were amazing. He learned the delights of orgasm denial, of light bondage, spanking, back scratching, underarm licking, ball sucking, hair pulling, slow fucking, arse pounding, nipple play, and one day, in the shower, the weirdest one of all, water play. Not something he would do everyday, but his partner pissing on his cock and balls as he was about to come from a hand job had totally blown his mind.

Despite their resolution not to, he and Marcus had met once more. A pretty grey owl had come one morning and had held out his leg to Harry. The note read:

_An encore?_  
Dear Harry,  
Just once more,  
Come to me,  
Like before,  
Coventry. 

Harry had smiled. He really liked Marcus. He’d got out is quill and ink and grinning, had added at the bottom of the page:

_Ten-o-four,_  
Eagerly,  
I wait for  
Craving thee. 

He had waited in a thicket outside Hogwarts’ wards until three after ten, rubbing himself through his clothes and thinking of fucking Marcus so that his cock was hard and ready, and had cast Divesto on himself and Impervious on the neat stack of clothes that resulted. He’d apparated naked and erect right into Marcus’s bedroom, where the man waited, just as naked and hard, sprawled on his bed.

They had burst out laughing, and Harry had pounced on his friend. They’d kissed for a long time, and made love to each other all night, Marcus, this time, giving as much as he received short of the final act.  
Three times that night, Harry had fucked him, the last time slowly and deeply, face to face, in the grey light of the early morning, their fingers entwined, breathing each other’s air, their eyes never leaving each other’s.

As they both came, Harry had involuntarily, wordlessly, cast Legilimens. For a few seconds, he had known himself cherished, had felt Marcus’s deep protectiveness of him, had known how truthful the man was when he told him he was an extraordinary lover. He had felt Marcus’s ecstasy melded with his own, and had cried out at the overwhelming pleasure, closing his eyes and cutting the link.

Marcus, in the throes of orgasm, had been oblivious of the short invasion. When saying goodbye, he had held his wand out to Harry to take the usual oath. Harry had smiled at him and kissed him deeply instead.  
He’d said, “No oath needed, Marcus Lestrange. I trust you.” Harry had seen in the man’s expression how much it meant, especially with Harry demonstrating he remembered his last name.

“You will never regret it,” he’d answered gratefully, and Harry had been glad for his involuntary indiscretion.

Fucking strangers, he always reached orgasm with Severus on his mind, wanting the man terribly. Finally, one evening, after they finished revising for their NEWTS as they did nightly, and Harry having no assignation, he decided to mention to Hermione how frustrated he was getting.

“I left the quaffle in his hands, Hermione, but perhaps it was a mistake.”

“Maybe. You know I checked, and there is no reason for you both not to carry on a discreet affair, but maybe we misunderstood. Could it be that we read too much in his last conversation with you?”  
Harry shrugged, dejected.

Hermione added, “It could also be that, though an affair with you would be acceptable, he feels uncomfortable coming on to a student.”

There were only a few people left in the library, and they had been speaking very quietly, but not quietly enough, evidently. Seamus had been packing it in at the next table, and flopped next to Harry.

“The man’s in love with you, Harry, plain as day. He eats you up with his eyes, smoke comes out of his ears when you speak to Malfoy, and I feel his stare burning a hole in me back if I lean too close to you at lunch. I think Hermione’s got it right.” He clapped Harry on the shoulder. “If you want him, go and get him.”

Harry stared at Seamus, flabbergasted. Seamus grinned and said, “What?”

“What? Seamus! How did you know I was gay? How do you know _he_ is? How do you know _who_ we’re even talking about!”

Seamus chortled and rolled his eyes at Harry. “Ever heard of a gaydar, Harry? I’ve known you were gay since fifth year! Almost offered you a blowjob a couple of times to cheer you up, but I could tell you hadn’t got a clue, then. As for Flitwick…” He cracked up at Harry’s horrified expression. “Ah! Got you! As for S-n-a-p-e, I‘ve always known. Him, Dumbledore, Lupin, Charlie Weasley, Zach Smith, Fletch, the ferret, the ferret’s dad, Zabini, poor Colin, Julius, and Angus, of course. All poofs, like us. Pings on me gaydar, loud and clear.”

“I wish I had one of those.”

“It’s a Muggle thing, methinks. Me mam is hardly more than a squib, never uses magic. I mean, me brother’s a Muggle! Fletch has a gaydar and so did Colin. Real convenient, that is… But back to your problem. You need to make an excuse to go see your man. Think of something, go, jump him, and Bob’s your uncle! Easy-peasy. G’night!”

He got up and left. Hermione and Harry looked at each other and burst out in quiet laughter.

“Seamus Finnegan; Relationship counsellor,” said Harry, smiling.

“Well, I think he’s right.” She blushed bright red. “He was right about Ron.”

“What do you mean he was right about Ron?”

“He said Ron would never make the first move, that he respected me too much. So two weeks ago, hum… I , uh, apparated to the Burrow (It took me three jumps, blech!). I popped in his room. At midnight. With only sexy lingerie on under my cloak.”

“Hermione! Scarlett woman you!” teased Harry.

Hermione giggled. “It worked. Really well. Well, the first try was… quick. More than quick. Pre-emptive, I guess you could say,“ she giggled again. “But the second was a vast improvement, and by the third… well, I got what the fuss is all about, if you know what I mean.”

Harry smiled big. “Way to go, Hermione! Has there been an encore?”

She grinned. “Did you know Rosmerta has rooms for rent on Tuesdays? And on Fridays? And on Sundays, too?”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “I see! And what about your NEWTS?”

Hermione smiled a little smile, “I’m ready,” she admitted sheepishly, shrugging. “You know it, and well, I know it too. I still review with you, but there’s more to life than grades, you know? I love Ron. So much. He’s smart, and handsome, and sweet, and he loves me. We’re almost twenty, he has a great job, I’m getting out in a few weeks and starting with the Unspeakables in August. We’re grown-ups Harry. It was time.”

Harry kissed her cheek. “I’m happy for you. I love you both very much, you know.”

“I know. What are you going to do Harry?”

“About Snape?”

“No! When you get out. Do you still want to be an Auror?”

“No. Not really. I’d like to continue studying defence, though, but I don’t want to work for the ministry. I have an application at Merlin University, in Glasgow, for the Mastery program. I really like Scotland. Professor McGonagall helped me: I’m applying with my real transcripts but under the name of Harry Black. I don’t want preferential treatment. I might not get in, they’re the best and they only take three students a year. I’m not sure.”

“Oh, Harry! That’s perfect, don’t you see?”

“What?”

“That’s your excuse to go see Snape again! You can ask him to take you on as an apprentice in Defence, for your Mastery! Never mind that working with Snape you’d learn more in two years than you would at Uni in four. It’s the perfect justification for a visit!”

“He’s never taken an apprentice. Not even in Potions.”

“Uh, Harry, Hello! The man was a little _busy_! Potion Master, brewing for the hospital wing, brewing for St Mungo’s, teaching full time, brewing for Voldemort, spying for the Order, Head of Slytherin House, and let’s not forget, watching over you, a full time job, that one…”

“Mmm. Good point. He was truly amazing during the war, wasn’t he. And now, he’s the best teacher we have. I’d love to study for a Mastery with him, to learn under him.” He grinned. “And to lie over him and learn to master loving him. Tomorrow night. Tomorrow night, I’m going to his quarters and not taking no for an answer. On either topics.”

“Go, Harry!”

“I’m scared shitless, Hermione.”

“ _The man’s in love with you, plain as day!_ ” she said in a decent imitation of Seamus’s accent.  
Harry grinned. “Right!”

_-_-_-_-_-_

April 24th, 2000

Justin had kissed Snape for two minutes, nominally licked his neck, sucked each of his nipples for one and a half minutes, and had been sucking his cock for six, running his hands over the pallid body all the while. He cast Lubricus on Snape’s hole, and started preparing him, which would take six more minutes.

He would pet the man’s prostate with his finger as he kept sucking him, hopefully bringing him very close, then after that would push his dick in and fuck him, jerking him off with his slicked hand. Hopefully, Snape would come quickly, because Justin had yet to last more than three minutes at that. If he didn’t come with Justin’s dick fucking him (he hardly ever did, the old sod, probably needed a half hour!) Justin would finish him with the hand job as quickly as possible, and then they would switch.

And, then… it would be heaven. Forget Hepworth, his first Slytherin, Blanchett, Finnegan and Blaise, and even Draco. Amateurs! Now, Snape could _Fuck!_ He was… god, unbelievable.

His blowjobs. Justin would swear Snape was able to do things impossible for normal people. Justin suspected it was because of his oversized nose. He would take Justin cock in _all the way_ , the head touching the back of the man’s throat!

If anything went pass the middle of Justin’s tongue, he would gag horribly, but Snape could take his dick way back there, and swallow around it, and suck. It felt incredible!

His rimming… Justin could have cried when Snape had said there’d be no more rimming until Justin rimmed him too. He never had, anyone. Not even Draco. It was just… gross, unsanitary, spell or no spell.

Hepworth had rimmed him, the first time, and Blanchett, every time. Draco had rimmed him twice, Finnegan three or four time, and Blaise, as many times as Justin asked. The first four did it because they wanted to fuck him. Blaise did it for love, to please him, and he was good at it, too. But Snape! His tongue had been long and strong, and agile, and _hot_. He had rimmed Justin until his brain had completely melted, nothing remaining but pure pleasure and a pulsing needy hole.

And his fucking! His cock felt as good as Justin had suspected, hard, so hard, with a big head, and lasting power enough for him to sometimes come twice, usually just from the stretch, the fullness, and the pounding on his prostate. Snape called himself a bottom, but he was the best fuck Justin had ever had.

That day, after he came in Snape’s arse (hardly after he’d even pushed in), and right after he had finished Snape with another seven minutes of handjob (twenty four minutes spent on fucking Snape, from start to finish), right when it was finally _His_ turn, someone knocked on Snape’s door. Justin was pissed beyond belief.

“Don’t answer it!” he begged.

“I can’t do that, Justin. Until I am no longer a professor here, our liaison has to come second to my duties as a teacher.” Oh, fuck! Thank god he had convinced Snape he deserved to retire and live the good life.

“But you’re no longer the head of Slytherin!” he protested. “Why do students keep coming to bother you in the evening!”

Snape kissed him quickly. “May I remind you of another student who came to bother me in the evening?”

“Well,” said Justin, flirting. “I had an exceptionally good reason to.”

“The best reason yet,” said Snape, caressing Justin‘s back from toes to ringlets, making him shiver in anticipation.

It must have been a good handjob. Snape looked happy, eager to pleasure him. The older man got cleaned up and dressed fast, using magic for most of it, impressive really, then kissed Justin’s butt cheek and said, “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

Justin sighed and prepared to wait.

_-_-_-_-_-_

Harry knocked once more, and resigned himself to the fact that Snape was not in that evening. It was Friday, after all. He was gutted. It had taken a lot of his Gryffindor courage to come down there, and now, he’d have to do it all over again.

He sighed in disappointment and leaned against the wall. Now what? He almost jumped out of his skin when the door suddenly opened.

“Mr. Potter! Sorry I kept you waiting.” Snape looked really surprised to see him, but not put out.

“It’s all right, Professor. My fault. I should know better than to just pop by. Am I disturbing you?”  
The last thing Harry wanted was Snape to be distracted by some potion brewing in his personal lab or something.

“If I recall correctly, I did give you leave to return anytime. And you are not interrupting anything pressing. Do come in. More problems with your magic?”

“No! no. I mean, I’m still getting more powerful, but now that you explained it, I’m not worried about it,” said Harry.

“I am glad to have put your mind at ease. Tea?”

“Yes. Yes, please.” Harry was so nervous his throat was dry. He watched Snape as his elf, who apparently was always listening, showed up with a tray and served the tea. His dark hair was shiny and clean, his face pale, but not sickly, his impeccable frock sexy in its modesty. Harry loved the man’s disproportionate nose, his angular ears, perfectly tight against his skull (He wondered if Snape liked having them sucked on, having them fucked with a tongue…) and his sharp cheekbones. And that mouth! He wanted to make it smile, to kiss it, to explore it, oh, god! To fuck it… The long hand bringing the cup to that mouth was so elegant, so graceful. Snape was beautiful to him. Simply beautiful.

“Mr. Potter?” said Snape, gently.

The quiet inquiry made Harry conscious he had been staring at the man for some minutes. Their eyes met, and Harry could see nothing disapproving in the dark gaze, finding instead an answering hunger. Snape blinked, seem to get a hold of himself, and asked, “How can I help you this evening?”

Harry took a deep breath, focusing back on the reason for his visit, and explained.

“I have submitted an application to the Mastery course of study in Defence Against the Dark Arts at Merlin University.”

“Surely you are not worried about them turning you down.”

“It’s possible. I applied under another name.”

“I assumed so, Mr. Potter. It has become quite obvious to me that you are not one to rely on your fame. Regardless, you are an exceptionally gifted student of the subject, and though their criteria are high, and the spaces limited, you will no doubt make the cut.”

Harry felt himself blush with pleasure at Snape’s compliment. Coming from this man, it was high praise indeed. It made it easier to continue with his request.

“I appreciate your confidence. Though their program is good, I was rather hoping for another course of study, however. I would be… I would be honoured beyond words if you would consider taking me on as an apprentice instead. I can think of no one I would rather study under, nor anyone I could learn more from.” Harry stopped, his heart racing. Please, say yes. Please.

The silence that followed was stretching for the longest time, and finally, Harry could not resist looking up at the man he loved and admired beyond all others. Snape was staring right back at him. Was that pain in his eyes?

“Mr. Potter,” he said finally putting down his cup, “the honour would be mine, I assure you, but… I am leaving Hogwarts at the end of the academic year, and intend to travel…”

Before he knew he had, Harry had jumped up, upsetting the tray, which thankfully fell flat and right side up on the stone floor, with a loud bang.

“You can’t leave,” he said, desperately. “Please don’t leave.” He was on his knees, in front of Snape’s chair, his hands on the arms, eye to eye, beseeching him. He blurted out, “I’m in love with you.”  
Seeing Snape about to interrupt he pleaded, “Let me say my piece, please. If it is distasteful to you, I promise you I will never bring it up again. I can’t play this game any more. I _am_ in love with you. You are the bravest man I have ever known, and brilliant, so gifted at so many things. I fell in love with you two years ago, through the writing of the Half-Blood Prince in my potions book, not even knowing who you were.

“Since then… I’ve become attracted to you, physically, I… I want you, so much, all the time. I know I’m young, and awkward, and your student still, and I’ll wait if I must, but I am older than most men my age, and I am not deluded. You are… all that I want. Please, give me a chance. If teaching me would be too much, I’ll go to university. But don’t leave.” He let go of Snape’s chair and sat back on his heels, looking down, feeling completely empty, suddenly conscious he had made a scene. He added softly, desperately, “Please don’t leave…me.”

Snape got up, and held his hand out to him. Now Harry felt utterly embarrassed, completely naked under the man’s gaze. He rose to his feet.

“Harry…” He looked up at Snape and his heart soared. There was so much love in the man’s eyes. “You are a gift, Harry. Undeserved, unforeseen, but so, so wanted.” Snape took a step back. “Will you not sit, please? Your closeness is… nearly impossible to resist.”

He doesn’t want us to be involved as long as I am a student, thought Harry, already knowing what Snape was about to say. He sat, ready to listen, ready to wait through the remaining weeks.

“Do not think your feelings are unwelcome, Harry,” Snape started.

Just then, a door opened in the back of the room drawing Harry’s attention to... a completely naked man, with his cock still glistening with come, his pubes matted with lube, hard, asking, “Severus, are you ever coming back to bed?”

Oh.

It was Justin Finch-Fletchley. He frowned at Harry. “Oh. Hi Potter. Sorry, Severus, I thought I heard the door slam. I thought you were done.” He was brazen, not in the least embarrassed. _He_ belonged.

Harry realized the depth of his stupidity, of his self-delusion. Not knowing where the strength to do so came from, he got up again, and said, walking backwards, “I’m sorry to have taken so much of your time, Professor. Thank you for your patience. Good night.” He turned and exited. Closing the door, he heard Justin say, “G’night, Potter.” Then, playfully, “Severus, I believe you owe me a fuck?”

_-_-_-_-_-_


	3. Part 3

  
  
A few minutes ago, Severus had been about to ask Harry to wait, to give him until graduation, telling himself he needed time to think, time to resolve the conundrum his life had become, but knowing all along that what he needed was time to disengage from his lover, to let Justin down easy.  
  
He had not been allowed his dishonest prevarication. Justin’s entrance, in his naked, just fucked glory, had thrown things firmly back into focus.  
  
Another young man loved him, and had a claim on his life, was owed his heart, his tender care. Had it not been for Potter, Severus would have felt utterly blessed to have the beautiful young man in his life, in his bed.  
  
Not the best of lovers, no, but Severus would have accommodated himself of it and counted himself lucky. He would not, could not, in all fairness, throw away the man who had saved him from oblivion because someone more tempting came along. What kind of man would that make him?  
  
Yes, his long-time fantasy had suddenly, incredibly, become a reality. The boy who lived had looked beyond their petty conflicts, beyond Severus’s mistreatment of him and his constant insults and verbal abuse and had seen the man he really was, more astonishingly yet, had fallen in love with him.   
  
It didn’t change the fact that Justin had loved him enough, had wanted him enough to reach out at his lowest point and give him back his life.  
  
He looked at his young lover who seemed puzzled at his long silence.  
  
“Justin, next time you feel the need to interrupt my conversation with another student, could you please, at least, dress yourself first?” he asked, his tone as light as he could make it. “You know we are under obligation to keep our liaison discreet. I think you failed at that rather robustly, don’t you?   
Therefore, I think it is my obligation to introduce you to a new form of foreplay. A spanking.”  
  
Justin’s eyes were as round as marbles. “No way. You’re joking.”  
  
Severus smirked evilly. “I’m going to love fucking your bright red, pretty little arse …”  
  
He cast Divesto on himself and took chase. Justin squealed and ran off. Ridiculous lyrics from a song from the Muggle summers of his youth popped in his mind. “If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with…”  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
Harry left the dungeon and went outside, in the clear pleasant evening. He would not think. He would not feel. He walked to the lake and removed his clothing. He was a very poor swimmer, but he dove in, and controlled his usual panic, forcing his limbs into an even rhythm, controlling his breathing, heading to the deeper waters. He pushed his body hard, as hard as he could, and surprisingly, after a while, felt in harmony with the element, floating effortlessly, completely absorbed by the motions of the swim, by the swift forward progress. Nothing, in the dangerous lake, interfered.  
  
Feeling calmer, he turned around, and swam back towards the castle, breathing under his arm, as Hermione had shown him once, when it had seemed an impossible feat. He had been swimming for almost an hour and was quite close to the shore again when he realized he was no longer alone in the water. He looked up to find the smiling face of Angus McGraw.  
  
“I’m scared shitless of that squid, but you made it look so good, I had to get in,” he said, as he stopped swimming and stood, the water to his neck. Harry stood as well, then without a thought, reached for Angus and pulled him tight against his body. He looked into his eyes for a moment, giving his classmate time to object, and when Angus just smiled some more, he kissed him deeply, passionately.  
  
Harry ran his hands down the other man’s body, finding Angus as nude as himself. Harry grabbed him under the arse and lifted him up. Angus automatically wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist and Harry walked them out of the lake. In quick succession, silently, Harry cast a warming charm about them, a cushioning charm on an oak’s large trunk, a Rectum et Colonia, vacuo et tergeo on Angus, and a Lubricus et laxo on Angus’s anus.  
  
As soon as they reached the tree, he leaned Angus against it, and lifted him a bit more. Angus helped by reaching overhead for a branch and taking some of the weight off. Harry lowered him onto his cock, sliding slowly, deliciously, into his heat.  
  
“Oh! Fuck yeah…” commented Angus.   
  
Harry gave him a few seconds to adjust, kissing him again, deeply. Angus signalled his readiness by squeezing his sphincter, and Harry pulled almost all the way out, and pushed back in, finding his bearings. Then he started to fuck his friend against the tree as if their lives depended upon it, pulling Angus’s arse tight towards him to hit his prostate at each pass, Angus’s cock caught between their bodies.   
He licked and sucked and kissed the boy’s neck, leaving a trail of love bites, and whispering, “Your arse is heaven, so good, so tight, so hot…”   
  
“Harry, fuck! Harry, oh god, hard , deep, love it, oh, love your cock, right there, yeah, oh god, gonna come, yeah , yeah, ahhhh!”  
  
Harry fucked him hard and deep through his orgasm, then stopped, buried as deep in Angus’s arse as he could go, and let go, his climax pulling a guttural wordless cry from his throat. He pulled out gently, casting cleaning spells as he went, and lowered Angus to the ground before kissing him again.  
  
“I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of playing nature boy. How about for round two we go in and transfigure ourselves a bed?” he asked.  
  
“You had me at ‘round two’” replied Angus, chuckling, as he picked up his clothes and started dressing.  
  
Harry smirked. “Don’t bother, I’ll just take them off again.” He picked up his own bundle of clothes and carried it under his arm, holding his robes casually one handed over his shoulder and started crossing the long front lawn, bold as brass. Angus watched him walk away, completely unselfconscious in his nudity, shrugged, picked up his bundle of clothes and followed, though he did hold his in front of his bits, just in case.  
  
Harry walked straight into the first classroom on the ground floor, and had already transfigured the desk into a bed and his clothing into sheets, duvet and pillows by the time Angus joined him. Casting a broad warming charm in the room, Harry was very grateful suddenly for his remarkable magical power. He dropped on the very comfortable bed and looked at his friend. For some reason, he felt the need to love him as perfectly as he knew how.  
  
“Come here, Angus.”  
  
Angus shook his head in wonder, smiling, and joined Harry on the bed. Harry turned him face down and sat just below is arse. Then, right above his palm he whispered “Viridi Naris Olium calidum”. Immediately, his palm filled with warm tea tree scented oil. He drizzled it on Angus back, and started massaging his neck and shoulders, his motions sure and strong.  
  
“Mmmmm… Mmmmm, oh, that feels so nice! Mmmmmm, Aaahhhhh…”  
  
Harry smiled and silently cast “Sexualitas Revelio”.  
  
Large red stripe, as expected; yellow because Angus derived pleasure from his feet; dark blue because he enjoyed role play; narrow off-white because he liked a little spanking, broad orange because he really enjoyed being tied up, bright pink because he liked his back scratched, thin turquoise because he got off on gentle bites and grey, for a little dirty talk. This was going to be fun.  
  
Harry leaned over and whispered in his ear, “When I saw you up on that block at the slave market, I just had to buy you. You are such a pretty boy… You’re mine now, I bought you, I can do whatever I want to you. Are you afraid, slave boy?”  
  
Under the massaging hands, Angus shivered, and goose bumps appeared on his skin. Harry had cast Silencio, and he could not respond.  
  
“You looked so good, so hot, naked at that auction for all to see. Did you feel all the lustful eyes on your body? Did you like all those men watching you, wanting to buy you to put their fat cocks up your arse?”  
  
Harry bend down again, and bit him lightly along the junction of his neck and shoulders and at the back of his neck.  
  
“You are so beautiful, I could just eat you up. But I don’t trust you pretty slave boy, so I’ll have to restrain you.”  
  
Instantly, Angus was flipped over, his hands secured above his head and his legs spread out. Angus eyes were all pupils, watching Harry, biting his lower lip. Harry started massaging his legs, working his way to Angus’s feet.   
  
“Your feet must be so tired after standing on the auction block so long…” He massaged them, nibbled the arch, and sucked the toes. Angus’s cock was hard as a rock, leaking precum.   
  
“If I take off your gag,” Harry said, “I don’t want you to talk unless I tell you to, but you can make any noise you want, OK?”  
  
Angus nodded eagerly. Harry sucked one last toe, “Arrrrgh!”   
  
Harry worked his way back up, and said, ”Did I mention I wanted to eat you up?” and took Angus’s cock all the way in. He didn’t need a spell anymore to relax his throat, and still adored sucking cock. He brought Angus to the brink three times, but stopped again and again before he could come, getting some heartfelt cries of distress.   
  
“Are you complaining pretty slave boy? You are mine. I do what I want. And complaining deserves a punishment.”  
  
The invisible ties went up around Angus’s knees, and pulled them up and out, until they were touching his shoulders, leaving Angus’s pert arse fully exposed. Harry slid a bolster under Angus’s lower back so he could relax in the position, and said, “I think a little spanking is in order, don’t you?”  
  
And he thwacked Angus’s arse fairly hard, getting a cry of pleasured pain out of him. He kept spanking, careful never to hit the same place twice, enjoying the noises Angus made. He nibbled at the red cheeks, cast the cleaning spell again and then licked from his balls down and started making love to his hole.   
“Talk to me Angus, do you like my tongue in your arse?”  
  
“Oh, fuck yeah! Oh, Harry, it’s so good, oh god, yes, please don’t stop, oh fuck! So good! Oooh! Hot… good…Aaaargh! Ah, aahhh, ‘ood…”  
  
Harry had him right where he wanted him. He cast Lubricus and worked his fingers in Angus’s arse. “I’m going to push my cock into your heat, and pound you into the mattress, and I’m not going to stop until you come screaming, pretty little slave. I own you. I’m going to prove it to you…”  
  
Harry got into position and guided himself into Angus arse, going deep relentlessly. He started fucking Angus, the man’s knees on his own shoulders, fast, hard, deep. It took only a dozen thrusts before Angus’s orgasm shot out of his cock while he cried out in relief and absolute pleasure, spraying his chin, his neck and his chest with generous amounts of cum. Harry undid the invisible restraints, and kept diving into Angus’s arse, seeking his own release, loving the utterly debauched and completely undone look on Angus’s face. He came hard and long, deep into Angus’s accepting body, and let the man’s legs slide down.  
  
Angus’s eyes were already closing as Harry cast “Finite Incantatem” on his hair, cleaned the both of them thoroughly, and pulled the sheets and duvet over their spooning bodies.  
  
He woke up in the night, still spooning, slid inside Angus, making slow gentle love to him, milking his cock with a knowledgeable hand until they came, at the same time, Angus almost purring. They fell back asleep with Harry still inside Angus.  
  
When he woke up again, it was daytime and in the pink morning light, Angus’s head was bobbing up and down as he gave Harry a very nice blowjob. From the minty taste in Harry’s mouth and the enthusiasm with which Angus sucked a cock that had spend the night in his arse, Harry concluded that Angus was no slouch at cleaning spells either. Soon he was too blissed out to care, and when Angus sucked the cum right out of him and hungrily swallowed it, he decided he might survive the day after all.  
  
Angus rejoined him on the pillows and smiled. “I just love sucking cock, you know?”  
  
Harry smiled. “I know…”  
  
Angus looked at Harry and said earnestly, “Harry, last night was… God. There are no words. The tree, the ropes, the quiet fuck… It was the best night of my life.”  
  
“I enjoyed you too. Very much,” said Harry, smiling.  
  
Angus blushed. “I’ve had a crush on you for a while… Now I think that I might be fall…”  
  
“Shhhh,” said Harry, his fingers on Angus’s lips. “It’s just your cock talking.” He thought back to Hermione’s cousin’s attitude towards sex and to the heart wrenching pain he had felt because of love and added, “Angus, I don’t believe in love. I believe in fucking. It’s honest, it’s efficient, and you get in and out with a maximum of pleasure, and a minimum of bullshit. Last night was great. Let’s keep it at that.”  
  
Angus lowered his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and looked up again, smiling a smile that managed to reach his eyes. “All right. Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” he said lightly. “I think breakfast is starting soon, and I’d love to grab a shower first.”  
  
“Yes, it’s definitely time to get up.” There was a double sink in the corner of the room. An old potion classroom perhaps? Harry transfigured it into a large shower. “I’m too lazy to go back up Gryffindor tower. I’m going to shower here.” He rolled off the bed and looked over his shoulder with a smile.   
“Wanna join me?”  
  
They soaped each other and goofed around under the warm spray, kissing and hugging. Harry pressed his hard cock on Angus’s hip.  
  
“Are you up for one more?”  
  
Angus smiled, and Harry turned him to face the wall. With only Lubricus, he slipped up his still welcoming arse. He fucked him hard, fast and deep, loving being queer, and came, his orgasm sneaking up on him.   
Despite the sensitivity of his cock post climax, he was determined to bring Angus off and kept going.  
  
“Oh, god! I can feel your hot spunk inside me,” moaned Angus. “Perfect, it’s perfect…” and he sprayed his seed all over the wall.  
  
Harry hugged him from behind, kissing his neck and behind his ear. He pulled out gently. He washed himself again, as did Angus, then both used spells to dry off. Smiling at each other, they came out and Harry spelled the bedding back into his clothes and got dressed.  
  
“I think I’ll leave the bed and the shower for someone else to enjoy. Nobody ever comes in here anyway.”  
  
“And it’s such a nice shower!” said Angus, grinning.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
“Do you think you’re as powerful as Dumbledore was?” he asked. “You can do amazing things.”  
  
“No way. Plus he knew so much more about magic than I do. Please don’t tell people I’m any stronger than I usually let on. I don’t want anyone to worry about me becoming the next Voldemort, OK?”  
  
They left the classroom and headed to the great hall for breakfast. “What do you want to do after your NEWTS if you’re not interested in world domination?”  
  
Harry ignored the sudden pain in his chest at the thought of what he had hoped for the future, and pushed away the memories that it heralded. “Well, I’ve applied for a DADA Mastery, but I might just leave magic behind and live as a Muggle.”  
  
“You have got to be joking! What skills do you have to make it in the Muggle world?”  
  
“I can always become a hustler,” joked Harry.  
  
“That you could.” Angus chortled. “I think your skills in that regard transcend the magical barrier.”  
  
“It takes two to tango, Angus,” said Harry, smiling at him.  
  
Angus smiled warmly back and went to sit with the Ravenclaws. It must have been really early still, as the Hall was still almost empty. Hermione was alone in the older years half of the table. Harry plopped down next to her and kissed her cheek. He got out his wand, brought forward the memory of the previous evening at Snape’s, and pulled it out.   
  
“I’m not sure if this will work, and it might feel weird,” he warned, and he pushed the memory into Hermione’s temple.  
  
She grimaced. “Blech! Time overlap! Weird? Oh, god, It’s awful! So disorienting! Ok…Ok.”  
  
She closed her eyes and concentrated for a moment, sighed in apparent relief, then opened them again and seemed deep in a daydream for a while. About ten minutes later, she turned to Harry, her eyes full of tears.  
  
“You can take it back. I’m done.”  
  
He pulled the silvery strand back out of her temple and brought it back to his. The pain, which had been dulled when he had removed it, came back, as sharp as a knife.  
  
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you got back,” she whispered, leaning her forehead on his shoulder.  
  
“It’s all right. I managed. I don’t ever want to talk about him again, though, OK?”  
  
She smiled wistfully. “I know _exactly_ how you feel.”  
  
“Sorry, I…”  
  
“It’s all right, Harry. Hey. It’s a nice day. I need a dress for the graduation ball. Let’s go shopping in Muggle London, what do you say?”  
  
“I say, fuck the NEWTS! Let’s shop!” He got up.  
  
Hermione caught his arm.  
  
“What?” he asked.  
  
“Do you know why I love you so much?”  
  
“Because you know that I mean it when I say I’d die for you?”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “No. Because of what you felt when you realized who it was. You hurt for Blaise. At a time like that, only you would think of someone else’s feelings.”  
  
“You would have too. Blaise really loves him.”  
  
She smiled at him, shaking her head. “I was you, I lived it. I didn’t think of him. You are a good man, Harry Potter.”  
  
He pulled a face. “Well, you know what they say. Nice guys finish last.”  
  
“Bullshit. So, short and black or long and red?”  
  
“Uh?”  
  
“My dress, Harry!”  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
Severus had actually dreaded the next class with Potter. He had dreaded the pain of knowing what could have been, of his dearest desire thwarted. He had expected Potter’s loving gaze to kill him slowly, his wistful smiles to tear him apart.  
  
What he had not expected was Potter’s perfect indifference. It was as if nothing had happened. The young man was respectful, polite, quick to respond to correction, perfectly focused on his work. Paired once again with Draco Malfoy, he fought hard, efficiently, and laughed and joked, enjoying himself.  
  
Not once did he pay any special attention to his professor. Not once did he seem less than utterly mindless to the older man’s presence. Severus felt thwarted, and ridiculously insulted and outraged.  
On top of which, Miss Granger tripped, apparently on her own feet, and accidentally sent an incredibly strong, unbelievably painful stinging hex right at his cock and balls. Bent in half, eyes streaming with tears, Severus thought he would never catch his breath.  
  
Her “Oops, sorry Professor!” seemed a woefully inadequate apology given the circumstances. Severus managed to straighten out and drag himself to his chair, and stayed put for the rest of the lesson, trying not to grimace in pain. He moved very gingerly for the rest of the day, and for the first time since the beginning of their affair, sent Justin away when he came that night, blaming a migraine.  
  
Justin looked satisfyingly concerned and disappointed, yet, sitting down with a medicinal Single Malt shot in his hand and an ice pack on his balls, Severus still felt disgruntled and upset. By the second shot, he was hurt and empty. By the third, he was overcome by a wave of terrible sadness, filed with a sense of loss and wept uncontrollably, his heart rendered by overwhelming grief.  
  
He had lost Harry. He had lost Harry. His love for the man burned in every cell in his body, and the bleakness and hopelessness of a future without even the most casual contact with him was unbearable. He wailed in utter despair compared to which the depression, which had slowly overtaken him earlier that year, was nothing. Then, he had not found a purpose to continue living. Now, he could think of no reason not to die.   
  
He never really found out why Flitwick floo-called him, nor even heard him come through after he had seen Severus’s despair.  
  
Severus just remembered a very warm hand petting his hair, a small but strong shoulder he cried on for a long time, and a bottle eventually pressed to his lips. Then he found the absolute oblivion of dreamless sleep.  
  
He regained consciousness in his bed, dressed in his under things, wrapped in misery and anguish, his small friend by his side looking like a child in the his large reading chair. Then he was hit with the strongest cheering charm ever cast, and chuckled as Filius temporarily disappeared as he got off the chair, before he climbed on the bed and sat next to him.  
  
“I have no idea what has caused you such grief, my friend” said the little man, “but I almost lost you once this year, and do not intend this time to sit idly by and let it happen again. So. You leave me no choice, Severus. You may hate me for a while, but you will live to fight another day.”  
  
Once again, a cheering charm sent his heart soaring even as he realized he could neither move nor speak. “I made a list,” said Filius. “See? Look. One hundred reasons for Severus Snape to be happy to be alive.”  
  
He turned a long parchment towards him, and indeed, at the top, in beautiful penmanship, the title, as stated, was written. Filius smiled happily. “It didn’t even take me all night. Almost, but not quite.” And he started reading, looking up at Severus between each entry.  
  
1\. A perfect batch of Pepper Up potion.  
2\. A well deserved Order of Merlin, First class.  
3\. Our world, free of Voldemort.  
4\. Beating Septima Vector at chess _every time._  
5\. The lilacs on the south lawn, blooming.  
6\. Being the most popular teacher at Hogwarts.  
7\. Surviving the war  
8\. Eating fresh fallen snow of the Astronomy tower’s parapet. You thought no one ever saw you do it, didn’t you!  
9\. Minerva McGonagall crying for joy and relief upon being told you’d been found alive.  
10\. Being the only man of whom the unicorns in the forest are unafraid.  
11\. Looking magnificent and imposing even in simple teaching robes.  
12\. Being one of only seven Potions Masters in the world able to brew Wolfsbane  
13\. Shortbread with tea.  
14\. Being able to do the Sunday Evening Prophet’s crossword puzzle in ink.  
15\. Chocolate mousse with bits of candied orange peel.  
16\. Tea with Hagrid…  
  
Calmly, Filius read, casting cheering charms when he deemed it necessary, reminding Severus of the good things in his life.   
  
…99. A really good wank in the shower. “Well, that’s one of mine,” the small man added sheepishly, “but I’m pretty sure it’s universal…”  
  
100\. “And finally, Filius Flitwick considering you the son he never had.”   
  
He looked up and smiled. “I really do, you know? I’ve known you since you were eleven, a scrawny, diffident, oh! so powerful child, with an inquiring mind, a fierce intelligence, a will of iron and an awful temper. His unfair treatment of you caused a rift between Albus and I that took years to heal. I went through the whole of last year feeling as if my heart had been ripped out of my chest, and found more joy in finally understanding your actions than from Voldemort’s demise.”  
  
He looked at Severus with so much kindness, the Potions Master felt his embarrassment at the previous night’s display fade away. As Filius had twice before, he petted Severus’s hand with his own pudgy warm one.  
  
“Whatever it is, Severus. Take courage. It too shall pass.”  
  
Severus felt he was free of Silencio and of whatever binding spell had kept him still. Filius Flitwick smiled at him.   
  
“Neither of us has to teach this morning, Severus. I send Shig to Minerva with the message that you were under the weather, and as we speak, I am supposedly in Cornwall checking the damage done to my house by a lightning strike. You are a very private man, I know that, and perfectly able to care for yourself regardless of the situation. I on the other hand, am a ridiculously overemotional creature, easily making a mountain out of a molehill, often upset over nothing.  
  
“I have worked myself into a tizzy over last night, dramatizing the whole thing as I tend to do. You would do me an enormous favour allowing me to chat with you, and permit your logical conversation and your soothing presence to control my ludicrous imagination and calm my nonsensical apprehension.  
  
“I thought it would help me to go over my silly list with you, and hear your opinion of the different items. I’d love to find out how little or how well I do know you…”  
  
Severus was touched by his friend’s effort to get him to talk without embarrassment, blaming himself for the need of conversation. It had been a while since the last cheering charm, and yet, he had to admit the pall of despair that had enveloped him had somewhat lifted. He was glad not to have to face the world yet, and yet thankful for the Charms Professor’s company. It would keep him from dwelling on what could never be.   
  
“I’d like to wash and dress, first, Filius, and I missed dinner last night. Perhaps we can take breakfast in my sitting room and converse there?”  
  
“Grand idea. I’ll be there.”  
  
It was obvious when Severus rejoined him, showered, shaved, and in clean clothing, that Filius had gone back to his quarters and done the same. Shig had brought all of Severus’s favourite foods, and was looking at him worriedly.   
  
“I’m all right, Shig. The sheets could use changing, and I wouldn’t mind some lilacs in here. The trees are blooming on the south lawn.”  
  
The little elf smiled, happy to be given something to do to please her master, whose actions of late left her quite puzzled. Why the man would put up with that two faced boy and send Kreacher’s gentle master away made no sense whatever to her.  
  
The two men ate, and chatted, and even laughed at times. Once or twice Filius hit Severus with a cheering charm, until Severus retaliated with same, saying, “Quit that!”  
  
Filius chuckled. “Yes, like that’s the worst thing in the world!”  
  
“That new Potions Master sure could use one. What a stick in the mud!” said Severus.  
  
“I heard a student say that he almost wished they had you back, because at least you kept them awake. Theory, theory, almost no practice. He could sure use a cheering charm!”  
  
“Or the boot! We have a reputation to maintain. We can get Slughorn back. At least he’s good for a laugh or two, and he understands that Potions is first and foremost about brewing.”  
  
“We should find someone new for next year. You could head the committee. Talk to Minerva. Poor thing. She already has to find a new Transfiguration teacher. She cannot keep doing two jobs.”  
  
“Three, if you count Head of Gryffindor.”  
  
Suddenly, Severus felt guilty. Minerva would also have to find a new DADA teacher. May be he should delay his retirement by one year, though Justin would be disappointed. He wondered what Justin had meant to do after graduation before they decided to travel. He’d have to explain to him that the postponement of their plans was unavoidable. It really would not be fair to Minerva to leave her with so much to deal with.  
  
By the time Filius left, at the end of morning, Severus had recovered some sense of self, though he felt the sadness in his heart would probably never leave him. He was enormously grateful to his small friend, and was glad not to have to face leaving him, Septima, Hagrid and Minerva for another year.   
  
Before lunch, and knowing Minerva did not have a class at this time, he made his way to her office. He explained he’d heard there were some concern about the direction the Potions curriculum was heading, and offered to spear the search for a teacher more suited to Hogwarts hands-on philosophy. She agreed many had expressed dissatisfaction with the new Potions Professor and though she knew some changes needed to be made, she had dreaded the process. She was thrilled to have Severus’s help and support in the matter.   
They parted, both pleased with the resolution, Severus’s mind already considering what the best process for selection would be.  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
“Potter! Harry, wait up!”  
  
Harry stopped on his way to join Hermione in the library. Malfoy caught up with him, his heavy book bag indicating a similar destination.  
  
“Hey, Draco.” He gestured to their bags. “Almost wish the damn NEWTS were next week, already, before we’re all permanently crippled.”  
  
They walked side by side. “I know. I’m so tired of reviewing! Thank heavens for Quidditch.”  
  
They spoke a little of the coming Gryffindor/Slytherin match. Harry was seeker again, but Draco had not rejoined his team. He was quite open about the fact that though he still hoped for a Slytherin victory, he was pretty sure Gryffindor would wipe the floor with them.  
  
“Unless you, the Weaslette, and Thomas fall off your brooms early on in some freak accident, we don’t have an ice cube’s chance in a goblin’s pants.”  
  
“That is such a weird saying,” commented Harry who thought so every time he heard it.  
  
“Why? Have you ever touched a goblin? They run hot, forty-five degrees to our thirty- seven. Shake Flitwick’s hand sometime, you’ll see.”  
  
“Flitwick is not a goblin!” said Harry, comparing in his mind the very human looking Charm’s teacher to the dark and definitely alien creatures at the bank.  
  
“Great grandmother, paternal side. Pure blood before that, for at least fourteen generation. The Flitwick name will never recover…”  
  
“Draco! I thought you didn’t think like that any more!”  
  
“Oh, I don’t! I’d marry his daughter if he had one and she was cute. And blond. They’re richer than god, the Flitwicks.” Draco wiggled his eyebrows.  
  
“You mean richer than the Malfoys,” translated Harry, grinning.  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. “Harry, nobody is richer than the Malfoys. But they come close. Plus think about it: She’d keep you nice and warm in those cold winter nights…”  
  
Harry cracked up. “In Wiltshire?”  
  
“Hey! We have a chalet in Zermatt!” answered Draco, grinning.  
  
“Besides, Draco, I thought you were gay,” said Harry, curious about what his ex-nemesis’s answer would be.”  
  
“Rumours of my homosexuality are greatly exaggerated. I am an equal opportunity lover. Girls, boys, I’ll do them all. You’re thinking of my dad, who wouldn’t touch a woman even with a ten foot pole.”  
  
“Yes. And that sentence makes so much sense, coming from his _biological son_.”  
  
“No, really. To have me, he jerked off in a cup, then banished the lot to my mum’s womb.”  
  
“Are you serious?”  
  
“As death and taxes. Edward Vane, Romilda’s father? The love of his life. Together thirty-one years and counting, and Eddie on Dumbledore’s side and everything. On the other hand, my mum likes to fuck the help.”  
  
“House elves?” asked Harry, horrified.  
  
“Ew! No, you git! Not at the Manor! The help at out French chateau. Ze pool boy, ze boy zat kips ze ‘orses, ze gardener, and sometimes ze parlor maid and ze scullery girl. I take after her, you see…”  
Harry laughed and shook his head. “Oh, la la!”  
  
“Right. Anyway. Hey, I wanted to ask you something,” said Draco, more soberly. “Let’s go in here for a minute, OK?” he asked, pointing to the Charm classroom.  
  
“Sure,” said Harry, curious.  
  
Draco leaned against the teacher’s desk, and Harry sat on the student one in front of him. “What’s up, Malfoy?”  
  
“OK. This is none of my business, I know, but the other day, at breakfast, I thought I saw you… Now, don’t get mad, OK? I mean, no insult intended or anything, but you’re Muggle raised, she’s Muggleborn, you could do something like that and not know, right?”  
  
“Draco, enough with the caveats. Spit it out!”  
  
“I thought I saw you… take a memory out of your temple and push it into her head. Crazy, right?” Draco looked at him hopefully.  
  
“Uh… No. Not crazy. I did.”  
  
“Oh, fuck.” Draco threw down his heavy bag. “I thought you did. Well I knew you did, really, but I was hoping… You know, I was hoping I was wrong. Fuck.” He got up and started pacing, messing up his perfect hair with his hands in his distress. “I hate this fucking school! Taking in fucking Muggles and telling them nothing, NOTHING! All of you, fucking dangers to yourselves and others! Fucking Dumbledore and his fucking Muggle studies! Toasters! Microwaves! Who gives a shit! But Wizard studies, to teach the Muggles not to enslave each other? Oh, no! That we don’t need! What a prick!”  
  
“What? What Draco? What did I do to Hermione?”  
  
Draco sat again across him, his hands on Harry’s shoulder, looking at him intensely.  
  
“Was it the first time Harry? Please tell me it was the first time you did it.”  
  
Harry nodded yes.  
  
“What did you show her, Harry?”  
  
“Something that happened the night before. Something I knew she wanted to know about and didn’t want to discuss. You know how she is. You tell her something, she asks you a million questions. I just didn’t want to go through it again and again. I thought if she saw it for herself, like you see things in a Pensieve, she would know everything, and that would be that.”  
  
“So it was something… important.”  
  
“To me, yeah. Really important.”  
  
“Emotional?”  
  
“Uh… Yeah. Very. As emotional as you can get, actually.”   
  
Draco’s hand fell to his side, and he looked so upset, Harry started panicking. “Talk to me, Draco!”  
  
Draco sighed. “It’s addictive. Really addictive. For the person receiving the thought. The more important, the more emotionally charged, the more addictive. A long time ago, wizards used to use it to enslave their captured enemies. They would force their intense, emotional memories into the other wizard’s head, make them live them, and take them back. One a day, for a few days, of the other wizard living their emotional highs and lows, without consequences to them, without their real life being affected, and they started wanting it, needing it, craving it.   
  
“The receiving wizard’s own emotions were not enough, their lives pale compared to the memories of the donor wizard, especially if that other wizard had a strong personality. And only that wizard’s thoughts would do, no other: they were like, imprinted. They would do anything not to be cut off. They enslaved themselves, their family, their magic to get what they needed. Cut off from the donor, they slowly lost their will to live, and usually killed themselves after a few weeks.  
  
“It’s forbidden Harry. Doing that to another wizard or another witch is considered worse than rape, worse than Imperio, worse than just about anything. If you were a pureblood, and I accused you falsely of doing it in front of witnesses, it would be considered ground for you to use Avada Kedavra on me with impunity.”  
  
“Oh, god! Oh, Merlin! Hermione! Is she going to be OK?”  
  
Draco shrugged. “I think so. It was just once. You’re not her enemy, she’s emotionally involved with you, you guys share your highs and lows already. It probably affected her, because she cared. It wasn’t without consequences. Just don’t do it again. Ever. Even if she asks, especially if she asks…”   
  
Suddenly, he cracked up. “Oh, shit! Did it have to do with Snape? Is that why she nailed him in the balls? Oh my god! It did, didn’t it?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“And I thought you two had buried the hatchet… It’s good Harry! Don’t you see? It totally shows that witnessing first hand what happens to you did not come for free. She didn’t just coast on your emotions, which is the addictive part. They affected her, her behaviour, because she loves you. She nailed the poor bastard for you. Yeah…” He smiled confidently. “She’ll be all right.”   
  
What Draco said made a lot of sense, and Harry was obviously never doing it again. He felt pretty shaken by the experience, and took a deep breath of relief, thinking about what could have been if they’d made a habit of it.  
  
Draco smiled at him. “Yeah,” he said, knowing where Harry’s thoughts had gone. “You’re going to have to tell her not to tell anyone, though, explain to her what you did. You would go to Azkaban, you know. And that, my friend, would suck.”  
  
Harry smiled back. “Oh! Draco! You care about me!” he said, needing to lighten the mood.  
  
“Not in the least,” Draco shot back, against all evidence to the contrary. “I’ve just heard you’re a fantastic fuck, and I wouldn’t want them to take you away before I have a chance to find out for myself,” he added.   
  
His words were flippant, but the expression on his face seemed to tell another story. Could Draco really want them to fuck? Nah…  
  
“Would never work, Malfoy,” Harry joked back. “You’re a top, I’m a top. No go.”  
  
His grey eyes never leaving Harry, Draco moved closer to him, took Harry’s hand and put it on a very life affirming erection. “That’s me, thinking of bottoming for you.”  
  
Draco had taken a risk talking to him about his careless thought-sharing, the risk of insulting his most precious ally, to prevent what could have become a tragedy. Harry felt a sudden wave of affection for the blond, immediately transmuted into lust as the last half hour of tension rushed right to his cock. Draco _was_ really hot. Harry took off his t-shirt and dropped it on the desk, throwing down the gauntlet.  
  
Draco smiled, got out of his robes, loosened his tie, passed it over his head, and took off his dress shirt, laughing as Harry tickled his ribs. Harry loved his scent: Sweet lemon, clean laundry and roasted almond or something. Good enough to eat. He kissed Draco voraciously, encountering the fresh minty taste of toothpaste and a playful tongue.  
  
Fuck. It was good. He nipped Draco’s lip, nibbled his slightly scratchy jaw, kissed bellow his ear and down the muscle to his shoulder, licked his way to the cutest little pink nipple, and played with it as he undid the buttons of Draco’s traditional wizard trousers. He switched nipples as he caressed Draco’s now naked body while the blond toed off his shoes and socks.  
  
Harry leaned Draco back over the desk, now covered by a cushioning charm, and admired his naked body as he undid his own fly. Gorgeous, really. Smooth luminous skin over long, well defined muscles, perfect in symmetry, golden trail of fuzz bisecting abs as good as his own, finishing in a nest of tight golden curls from which a lovely strong cock, its glands fully unsheathed already, rose proudly. Harry’s preference had run to dark haired men, but Draco might just convert him.  
  
Draco was breathing fast as his eyes roamed hungrily along Harry’s body. When they met Harry’s, they were dark, wanting.  
  
“Put your feet on the desk, Draco.”  
  
He did, holding his ankles, knees far apart, biting his lower lip, fully exposed. Small round balls in a hairless sack, enticing pink entrance, beautiful feet.  
  
“I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you,” said Harry, honestly, caressing the inside of the pale thigh.   
  
Incredibly, Draco seemed relieved, as if he had feared that Harry would find him unappealing. Harry smiled at him. “I want to fuck you so badly right now. Who would have thought?”  
  
He moved between Draco’s feet, slid his hands below his arse and lifted him up until Draco’s long thighs were on his shoulders. Harry nuzzled the blond’s balls. Draco smelled so fucking good! Spreading the firm smooth cheeks he was holding, he licked up the crease to the pretty pink star, which puckered tightly at his approach, confirming what he suspected, that Draco did not bottom often.  
  
He enjoyed spending the next while using his mouth and tongue to coax the skittish outer sphincter to relax, to accept the sweet invasion, to let him in to please its owner. Draco was making the most arousing sounds as Harry tongue-fucked him, his inner sphincter much more welcoming. Sweet roasted almonds. Draco was delicious.   
  
“Harry, god, don’t stop, please, don’t stop!”  
  
Draco’s pelvic muscle pulsed as he climaxed, enchanting Harry, who had never had anyone come from his rimming alone. He lowered Draco back to the desk and took the still quivering cock in his mouth, sucking out the last drops of surprisingly fruity cum, which felt very good if Draco’s reaction was to be believed.  
  
Holding Draco’s cock gently in his mouth and after casting Lubricus, he prepared him further, knowing the tongue fucking was nowhere near enough, loving the squelching sounds of his fingers coming in and out of the tight sheath and the shivers quaking Draco’s body when Harry lightly drummed on his prostate.  
  
Having held back as long as he could, his own cock throbbing with every one of his heartbeats, he released Draco’s hardening cock, removed his fingers from the perfect arse, secured Draco’s calves on his shoulders, and looking into the grey eyes, pushed in, popping the swollen head of his cock through the sphincters. Draco hissed, cringing, and Harry waited for his features to relax before moving forward, slowly but relentlessly. Draco bit his lip and scrunched his eyes.   
  
Fully in, Harry stopped moving and watched as, once again, Draco’s expression relaxed. Gently, slowly, he moved in and out, in and out until Draco opened his eyes again and smiled. Then Harry changed his angle ever so slightly, the head of his cock pressing along the prostate on the way in and again on the way out and smiled too as Draco said, ”Oh? Ooohhhh… Oh, yeah… Oh god! Yeah…”   
  
Then Harry started fucking him in earnest. Draco was a wonderfully responsive and vocal partner, and Harry was loving, just loving fucking him. Pleasure had brought a beautiful glow to Draco’s skin, and with lightly pinked cheeks, his face was more stunning than ever. It was good, so, so good, in and out, again and again, Draco’s beautiful face, his arousing moans, his iris a silver ring around the blown pupil, the expression on his face…incandescent.   
  
“Harry, T’feels so good, so good! Fuck…Fuck yeah! Don’t stop! Don’t stop! I’m gonna co…Arghhhh!”   
  
Draco’s cock sent his cum all over his chest and belly, his eyes seeming to roll back into his head. He closed them on his pleasure, looking like a fucking angel.  
  
Harry shivered. A spell had just been cast behind him. He knew this magic, this presence.   
  
Snape.  
  
Snape was coming up the aisle, watching him fuck Draco Malfoy. Gorgeous Draco, and one of the most pleasurable fucks he’d ever had. Well. Harry hoped Snape enjoyed the view. He pushed him out of his mind, and concentrated on pleasuring his lover.  
  
“Fuckmefuckmefuckme, so good so fucking goood…”  
  
Harry maintained a punishing rhythm, his whole body singing in pleasure, completely focused on fucking Malfoy senseless.  
  
His hand left Draco’s hip, and collected semen from his belly before grasping his cock and milking it in time with the pounding he was giving his arse. Draco’s mouth opened on a silent scream.  
  
Harry was impossibly close, he just wanted Draco to come once again, to see that look of utter bliss on the gorgeous face. “Come for me, Draco…” He whispered wishfully and felt fierce joy when Draco climaxed again. He buried himself deep in Draco’s arse, and shuddered again and again with his own mind-blowing release. He leaned forward, letting Draco’s legs slide down along his arms, and took his mouth in a passionate kiss, incredibly grateful. He put an arm under Draco’s shoulders, cupped the blond head in his hand and he sat him up, kissing him still, wanting him closer, mindless of the cum on the other boy’s chest.  
  
After breaking the kiss, Malfoy rested his forehead on the Harry’s shoulder.  
  
“Oh, sweet, sweet Merlin… That was…That was…” he chuckled, burying his face in Harry’s neck and holding on to him for dear life. The words, or lack thereof made Harry’s heart soar, but then he remembered Snape.   
  
No way was he sharing this intimate moment with that fucking voyeur.   
  
He backed away, disengaging himself from the hug, and slipping out of Draco’s body at the same time, hating how cold it felt. He bent down to pull up the jeans that had been around his ankles, and grabbed his T-shirt from the desktop. He gently pushed away Draco’s hand as it reached for his chest, feeling gutted to have that moment stolen from him.  
  
“It was a fuck, Malfoy. Just a fuck,” he said, hating himself, but refusing to let Draco expose himself to his spying Head of House.   
  
Draco looked stricken for a moment, then a mask of studied aloofness fell across his features, as he let out a fragile chuckle.  
  
“Yeah, “ he agreed. “Just a fuck. But a good one.”   
  
Harry shrugged. He slipped on his T-shirt and his face a cold mask of indifference, he turned toward Snape, effortlessly seeing through the charm. His eyes met Snape’s and just in case there was any doubt in the Professor’s mind that he’d been seen, he nodded to him before picking up his bag, turning and walking away.  
  
“See you, Malfoy.”  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
As soon as Harry left the classroom, Malfoy’s face crumpled, and he buried it in his hands. As Severus retreated, he could hear Malfoy swearing softly.  
  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck….” Then something that sounded very much like a sob and “Get a fucking grip, Draco. It was just a fuck…just a fuck…”  
  
Leaving the Charms classroom, Severus headed straight for the front door, forgetting his night patrol duty, and just needing some air. The pain of seeing Harry with another man, especially a man as young and beautiful as Draco Malfoy, was overwhelming. The fact that Harry had known Severus was there, watching them, was humiliating beyond belief. He took the path that circumvented the lake, paying no attention to the beauty of the night or to the world around him.  
  
He had reconciled himself with the knowledge that Justin was his future, not Harry Potter. He had found a goal to sustain him short term with the hiring of a new Potions teacher. He had put more energy into his friendships. But being faced with the magnificent reality of the two young men fucking, having seen Harry’s body inside another, so beautiful, and now forever out of reach, was something he had not been remotely prepared to deal with.  
  
He stopped walking suddenly, as a truly disturbing revelation about his own character came to the fore, vaguely noting the accuracy of the expression “to have one’s blood run cold”. Had he really looked down at Draco Malfoy for his egocentric behaviour? How could he reproach Justin his self-centered attitude?   
Their selfishness and self-absorption were nothing, _nothing!_ to his own. In the past few weeks, not once, _not even once!_ had he given any thoughts to Harry’ s feelings.  
  
His legs seemed suddenly deprived of the strength to carry him, the weight of his guilt overbearing.   
  
Crushed, he sat, then lay down on the ground, looking up at the myriad of stars, as his mind relentlessly replayed scenes from the past few months.   
  
Harry, coming to his quarters at Easter with a sincere, heartfelt apology, just to have a door pettily slammed in his face.   
  
Harry, coming to seek advice from him about his magic, and opening up about his feelings after Severus pushed him to do so, only to be completely ignored for weeks.   
  
Harry, returning yet again, open, vulnerable, declaring himself fully, confessing his love, just to be faced, as Severus had been tonight, with the obvious and concrete reality of the man he loved having been interrupted by his visit in the middle of sexual congress with someone else.  
  
Severus had thought of no one but himself, the entire time. Harry barely out the door, he had playfully engaged Justin in mildly kinky intercourse, catching him, tying him up, spanking him, rimming him and fucking his mouth to teach him, once and for all, about deep throating, pleasuring himself on the young man’s cock until the seemingly unavoidable premature ejaculation, and finishing himself by fucking the young man deep and hard, their best sex yet.   
  
Not one thought for Harry, his pain, his humiliation, his despair. Miss Granger’s Stinging Hex suddenly took on a whole new meaning. She had probably had to deal with the aftermath of that evening, and had taken a modicum of revenge on her friend’s account.  
  
His own breakdown the other night had been completely about himself, his loss, his grief. Severus was appalled, disgusted with his selfishness, his total obliviousness of Harry’s misery.  
  
He realized his attraction to Harry, his love for Harry had been just as selfish, and oblivious of the fact that Harry Potter was not just strength, goodness, courage, intelligence and self-sacrifice wrapped in a beautiful package. He was before anything else a very young man, coming out of a terrible childhood, a horrifying adolescence, and into adulthood, dealing with the discovery of his homosexuality, the anxiety over his rapidly growing powers, the decisions to be made about his future, and passionate feelings of love for an older man he admired and considered superior to him in everyway.  
  
For the first time, Severus Snape’s heart went out to Harry, hurt for him, felt for him, understood the man, not the two dimensional construct he had heretofore viewed in his place. There, on the grass, in the middle of a mild night of May, Severus Snape helplessly, really and truly fell in love with Harry, the insecure teenager at his door, the proud man walking out of his rooms his head held high despite a terribly painful and humiliating blow, the lover begging at his feet, the powerful wizard dealing with his frightening strength in duels, the friend who laughed with miss Granger through his pain, the generous boy who extended a hand to his childhood nemesis and made life liveable again for Draco Malfoy.  
  
Severus felt the unique privilege he had had to watch such a man grow up, to have been part of his life, and the enormous honour he had received to be loved by him, desired by him above all others.  
  
He saw Harry’s recent coldness for what it was, a way to deal with pain, a tentative to recover his shattered pride, a way to cope with a broken heart.  
  
Severus shivered. The ground was cold. He sat, holding his knees, then stood (still after many days, feeling a twinge where the hex had hit, though he felt no resentment towards Miss Granger any more).  
  
He would go home to his young lover now, to his truncated destiny. But his love for Harry was coursing through him. He had no idea what he could do, but he wanted to see the man he loved strong, and whole and happy. The idea of seeing him happy with another, though the direct result of the choices Severus had had to make, was incredibly hurtful, but the thought of Harry sad and alone was much more so.  
  
Entering his quarters, welcomed by a naked Justin who was smiling seductively at him, feeling his body react, and knowing the affection he owed the young man, he faced the consequences of the ironic vagaries of his life.  
  
He had refused to acknowledge his attraction to one man, and had accepted the love of another, to be faced with the surprising knowledge that the first man returned his feelings. He had grieved his lost opportunity and had decided to make the best of the situation, only to fall in love all over again, this time completely, whole heartedly, and selflessly, with the first man again, knowing fully well all hopes had passed.  
  
He could not handle the thought of sex that evening (The image of Harry fucking Malfoy was seared on the inside of his eye lids, his deeper understanding of reality doing nothing to lessen the pain), he only wanted to sleep.  
  
“I’m sorry, Justin, I need to be alone tonight. Please be kind enough to go back to your dorm.”  
  
The pout, the stubborn little frown. “I’ve been waiting for hours! How can you want to be alone when you could be with me? You can even fuck my mouth again if you want, as long as you rim me after, OK? Come on, Severus, I’m all hot and bothered, and I can see you’re half hard already.”  
  
Justin had all but tapped his foot down like a toddler in a tantrum. Severus felt so tired. He owed his life to Justin. He knew he did. He was willing to give the young man as much as he could. But was there no limit to this debt?  
  
“Justin, please listen to me. Tonight, I want solitude. It has nothing to do with you. I have given you my passwords, given you leave to come and go as you please. But every once in a while, I will ask for time alone, and I expect you to respect that.”  
  
The trembling lip, the eyes full of tears. “You say you’ll never forget what I did for you, but you want to be able to throw me out anytime you feel like it! What about me! What about my needs?”  
  
Severus sighed. Justin _would_ grow up, eventually, but right now, that day seemed much too far away. He felt so tired.  
  
“Fine,” he said. “If it makes it easier for you, stay…” Justin smiled in victory. “… I’ll go.”   
  
Severus turned around and left his rooms, closing the doors quietly behind him. He went to his office and used the floo to the Three Broomsticks, where he secured a room from Rosmerta for the night, and bought from her a small bottle of commercial sleeping aid. He drank the inferior swill, took off his clothes and lay in bed.   
  
His life, for years, had been filled with guilt, pain, fear, bitterness and anger, driven by duty, loyalty and purpose. He had been an important character in a griping war and spy story. Now his life had become a badly written romance novel, with him as the caricature of a star-crossed lover. Never had he been so grateful for his love of irony.  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
Harry had been waiting outside the Great Hall since breakfast began. Malfoy, usually early, was rather late today. But here he was, with Nott, the Greengrass sisters, and Zabini, quiet in their midst. As they got closer, he saw Harry by the door, and smiled, a smile that did not reach his eyes, then turned away. Fuck. Harry, finding his Gryffindor courage, stepped forward and touched his arm.  
  
“Draco, got a minute? I’d like to talk to you.”  
  
Harry could tell Draco was torn between blowing him off or cutting him down in front of everyone. He added quickly, “Please, Draco.”  
  
Draco shrugged his acquiescence, and his housemates went on without him.  
  
“In here?” asked Harry, pointing to an alcove looking out to the front lawn.  
  
Draco shrugged again. Harry had been agonizing all night about how shabbily he had treated Draco after he had stuck his neck out to talk to him about what he had done to Hermione, and after an incredibly intimate and beautiful sexual experience. He had thought long and hard about how to handle the situation, had tried to think like a Slytherin, and was hoping to strike the right note to allow Draco to forgive him without Draco losing face by admitting he cared.   
  
After putting up a privacy spell, hoping for the best, Harry started.  
  
“About last night…”  
  
Draco’s face hardened, and he was about to speak, so Harry said quickly, “Please, wait to mock ‘till I’m done, and then you can laugh at me all you want, OK?”  
  
Draco looked a bit surprised, but shrugged again.  
  
“I want to apologize. Draco… last night? Last night was the best sex I’ve ever had, and afterwards, kissing you, holding you… I could tell I was about to start gushing, to kiss you all over, cuddle you, call you ridiculous pet names, whisper a bunch of sentimental things in your ear and make vows and promises. It was _that_ good for me. Then I remembered how casual you feel about sex, and I freaked out. I just knew I couldn’t help make a total romantic arse of myself if I lingered and I was totally aware you’d never let me live it down. So instead, I acted like a total jerk. I just couldn’t seem to find a middle ground. I’m really sorry.”   
  
He could see the Slytherin thinking through what he’d just said, and making a decision on how to respond.  
Draco smirked. “Well, I can’t really blame you, Potter. Yesterday was definitely gush-worthy. Actually, I have to thank you, because you probably saved me the embarrassment of declaring my love, and asking for you to marry me, which we both know is impossible.”  
  
Following Draco’s lead, Harry nodded understandingly, “because I’m not a girl,” he affirmed.  
  
Draco swept that objection away with an elegant hand. “Pff! Because you’re not a _blond_ ,” he clarified, as if Harry had completely missed the point.  
  
They cracked up, looking in each other’s eyes in relief. They were OK. Better than OK, really. Harry had the fleeting thought that, as far as he was concerned, one of the best things about Voldemort being dead was that he got to be friends with Draco.  
  
“Gush-worthy, eh?” he confirmed.  
  
“Totally.” Draco moved as if to reach for his face, but laid his hand on Harry shoulder instead. “So, Potter, what do you say? Fuckbuddies?”  
  
“Uh-uh. Not good enough.” Harry did reach for Draco’s face, cupping his cheek in his palm, running his thumb over his lower lip. “Friends with benefits.”  
  
Draco’s smile this time was a real one. They let go of each other.   
  
“No chance of reversing positions though, right?” confirmed Draco.  
  
“Probably not,” admitted Harry.  
  
“Saving something for true love?”  
  
Harry pulled a face and nodded sheepishly.  
  
“Yeah,” agreed Draco. The fact that he blushed and obviously could relate passed right over Harry’s head.   
  
“Hey, I’m starving. If we don’t hustle, we’ll miss breakfast,” he added, redirecting the conversation.  
  
“You’re right, let’s go.” They walked to the Great Hall together. Harry felt really good. Before they parted ways, he bumped shoulders with Draco and smiled at him. Draco smiled back.  
  
Harry inserted himself between Hermione and Seamus at the Gryffindor table, forcing them both to scootch up.  
  
“Harry!” griped Hermione, barely saving the glass she held from spilling on herself.   
  
“Really, Potter! I was enjoying the nearness of that gorgeous lass. You’re such a kill joy!”  
  
“Well, return to type, and enjoy the nearness of this gorgeous lad. And pass the bacon.”  
  
He joked and laughed with his friends, happy things had gone so well with Draco. Suddenly, as if hearing a silent call, he looked to the teacher’s table. Snape was staring at him with hunger in his eyes.   
  
Hunger and… feeling. Harry felt his heart soar at the same time as anger made him clench his teeth and humiliation was like acid in his belly.  
  
The dichotomy of his response was utterly crazy making. The pain he had felt realizing the full meaning of Fletch’s appearance that night bloomed in his chest all over again, yet he could not help but feel joy at taking in the details of the beloved face, the dark eyes, the thin lips, the sharp cheek bones and the majestic nose.  
  
Snape, after all, had not meant to hurt him, to humiliate him. He’d just lived his life. Harry was the one who had made a fool of himself. Suddenly, for the first time since that night, he recalled Snape’s response to his own soul baring.  
  
 _“Harry… You are a gift, Harry. Undeserved, unforeseen, but so, so wanted.”_  
  
It had been eclipsed by the overwhelming feelings that had followed. What had Snape been playing at, saying such a thing with his lover in his bed next door? Then again, Harry was pretty sure Justin had cheated on Blaise with Draco. Now he was cheating with Snape. Had Harry read too much in the situation? Were Snape and Fletch just fucking around?  
  
 _“Do not think your feelings are unwelcome, Harry,”_ were the last words Snape had said to him. What the fuck did that mean?  
  
Shit. He’s been starring at Snape for the past five minutes. And Snape was starring right back with the strangest expression on his face. How could one look so hopeful, yet so forlorn at the same time?  
  
Harry looked away, utterly confused. Unexpectedly, Hermione’s small, cool hand was on his cheek, and as he met her eyes, her smile was as warm as a hug. He smiled back at her.   
  
“A knut for your thoughts, Harry, but not literally please! Never do that again, last time I had a headache for three hours.”  
  
“Don’t worry, I never will. I’ve since learned it is punishable by law, with a nice long stay in Azkaban.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Harry told her what he’d learned from Draco, and apologized profusely for putting her at risk.  
  
“Well, no harm done, apparently. And I have some really good blackmail material, now…” She got up and picked up her bag.  
  
“Yes, well, don’t forget I saw what you were wearing under that prim uniform when we went shopping the other day… Talk about blackmail material,” Harry retorted, picking up his own bag.  
  
“Shut up. I was meeting Ron later…” she explained, as they walked out of the Great Hall.  
  
“Such bull. I saw you leaving for your _assignation_ with my best friend. You were wearing jeans, and your hair was wet. Admit it Hermione, you have a lingerie kink.”  
  
“Assignation, Harry? I’m impressed. Your vocabulary is improving!” teased Hermione.  
  
“Way to change the subject… As subtle as an elephant in a china shop,” mocked Harry as they entered Transfiguration, seconds ahead of the bell.   
  
They sat down and moaned with the rest of the class when McGonagall handed out a surprise quiz. That woman definitely had an evil streak.  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
The second time Severus caught sight of Harry engaged in sexual activity, it was Saturday late in the afternoon. He’d gone for a stroll to Hogsmead after lunch, with no particular goal in mind, and was just returning, having bought a box of butterscotch candy for Filius, the Charms teacher’s favourite, just because. He took the long way back to Hogwarts, on the hardly ever used trail, on the east side of the lake. It was by complete mischance that he happened to catch sight of the students, quite well hidden in a small out of the way clearing.   
  
Potter was standing, leaning on a big chestnut looking away from the lake, and Angus McGraw was on his knees, in front of him, performing fellatio. Potter was running his fingers in the brown curls and tilting his head back, evidently about reach his climax. “Gus, here I come, oh, yes, suck it out, swallow it, t’so good when you do that, mmmm, yeah…”  
  
A sharp stab of jealousy hit Severus. He would have given anything to be the one to create such an expression on Harry’s face. He could not be seen, having caught sight of them through a small opening between the leaves of the bushes lining the path, and them facing to the right. He stood still, expecting the two youths to have concluded their tryst and head back to the castle momentarily.  
  
Angus looked up, grinning, and Potter looked down at him, returning the smile. “I so needed that,” said Potter. “Potions theory is so tedious.” He helped Angus up.   
  
“Yes. I miss Slughorn. I like to brew.”  
  
“So, you’ve taken care of me. Anything I can do for you?” asked Potter, after putting himself to right.  
  
“Anything?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
“Rimming with a hand job?” asked Angus, hopeful.  
  
“I’d love to rim you. Your arse tastes like toast.” Potter took his robes and threw them on the ground, transfiguring them into a mattress. He was wearing Muggle clothes today. “Off with the pants, Gus, hands and knees.” He chuckled. “I’m salivating just thinking about it.”  
  
Angus, who was also wearing jeans and a t-shirt under his robes did him one better and took everything off.  
  
“Good idea,” said Potter, who disrobed completely as well. Didn’t these boys ever wear underthings?  
Angus, standing on his knees, was looking at Harry over his shoulder with a smile. Potter kneeled behind him and took him in his arms. They reached for a kiss, then Potter sucked Angus’s ear lobe, kissed under his ear, and nibbled his way down his neck. He lightly bit the angle of the neck and shoulder, and Severus shivered along with McGraw’s moan. That was one of his own sensitive spot. He should go. He had no right to spy on them. They were both of age, on their afternoon off, far from prying eyes, doing nothing wrong.  
  
Angus was on all fours now, and Potter was making his way down his body, kissing, licking, biting, scratching. His arms reached around his partner’s body and he played with his nipples. Angus was arching his back, loving every bit of it. Potter was an amazingly sensuous man. The pleasure he took, caressing every inch of his friend’s body, as he continued to back away, going further and further down, was obvious in his renewed erection (Now, that’s a cock! commented Draco Malfoy’s slightly mocking voice in Severus’s head. Why, why did his internal voice have to be Draco’s?). That’s it. Severus was leaving.  
  
Potter ran his tongue down Angus’s crack, as Angus moaned in anticipation. Potter sat on his heels, and spread the round cheeks with his hands, taking in the view and smiling. He bit his lower lip as his cock rose further. Then he lowered his face to his friend’s arse with obvious relish, and went to work. Angus McGraw’s expressive face showed clearly why he’d requested this particular act over anything else. Either he was particularly partial to it (and who wasn’t?) or Potter was particularly proficient at it.  
  
Either way, he was in heaven. The sounds he made had Severus hard and aching, wanting very much to be where the young man was, to know that ecstasy. Potter’s hand came around Angus’s body, grasped his cock and milked it, fast and tight, and in less than a minute, Angus sprayed his release, screaming in pleasure as he came. Potter, wiping his mouth on his forearm, came to his knees and entered Angus in one smooth stroke, and immediately started fucking him hard, fast and deep.  
  
“Oh, God, Harry, come, please come! I want to feel your hot spunk in me!”  
  
A couple more pushes and Potter came, crying out, head thrown back, so beautiful in his orgasm that Severus followed him, erupting inside is pants. Fuck. He’d meant to leave, he really had. He backed away, silently, and Potter turned his head and unerringly looked at him over his shoulder, straight in the eyes, making Severus’s heart miss a beat. Harry’s face revealed nothing.  
  
Severus turned around and walked off, casting an energetic cleaning spell on himself, ashamed, aroused, utterly confused. Why had he stayed? How long had Potter known he was there? Why had he come in his pants like some sexually deprived teenager? Was Harry over him? What would it be like to have such an exquisite lover? Would Harry have had as much passion, taken as much sensuous joy at pleasuring his own almost forty year old body as he obviously did his young classmates’? Would he have even been inspired to?  
  
Justin certainly wasn’t, despite how much and how long he said he had loved and wanted Severus. How could he compare the two? Justin and Harry had nothing in common aside from their sex and age…  
  
Deep in his thoughts he did not see the two young men until all three of them started up the stairs to Hogwarts at the same time, arriving from opposite sides of the lake.  
  
“Good afternoon Professor!” said Angus. He added to Harry, “I’m glad it’s dinner time, I’m starving.”  
  
“A nice day to commune with nature, Professor Snape?” asked Harry, starring at Severus. “Bird watching perhaps? Observing the mating season of wild creatures in their natural habitat?”   
  
“There are wonderfully beautiful things to be seen in the woods, this time of year,” replied Snape, unflinching, starring back. “It sometimes makes me wish I could be a participant in the celebration of Spring, and not just an observer,” he added, wistfully.  
  
Angus McGraw, walking slightly ahead of them, entered the Great hall. “See you later, Harry.”  
  
Harry stopped and turned to Severus. “From what I saw in your quarters, it seemed that you have been celebrating the season aplenty. Please, pity this fool and answer this: Was it an equinox dalliance or is it true love?” he inquired, definitely overstepping the boundaries of proper student to professor interaction.  
  
“The only thing that might be of your concern is that it will endure,” replied Severus, refusing to take offense, and choosing honesty instead.   
  
The hurt that flashed across Harry’s face was very painful for Severus to see. “I’m truly sorry,” he said, aching for Harry.  
  
“We cannot choose who we fall in love with,” replied Harry, and Severus thought he was talking of him and Justin. He realized his mistake as Harry finished his thought. “But they do say that a first love is everlasting, and that so is hope.”  
  
Harry was telling him he would keep on loving him, and would wait for him for as long as it would take. Severus, his deep love for that beautiful, amazing young man making his throat tight, answered, “You should be happy now, Mr. Potter. You should not wait for a day that may never come. You deserve everything good in this life, and perhaps you may find, once you leave this place for the wider world, that true love awaited you out there.” Aside from the Unforgivable curse that had put an end to his beloved mentor’s life, that was the most difficult thing he’d ever had to say.  
  
“I may not have seen much of the world, Professor, but I do know myself,” said Harry, dismissing the possibility of being mistaken about the depth of his feelings for Severus. “However, your message is loud and clear. I’ll never bring this up again. Good night, Professor.”  
  
He walked away, nothing in his bearing indicating the pain of Severus’s very final rejection.  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
Harry has no idea what had made him turn around and look through the nearby bush that afternoon. He just knew he had not been surprised to find Snape watching them.  
  
How long had he been there? In a heartbeat, he was gone, and Harry returned is attention to Angus who had slid off Harry’s cock and turned around, and was now lying on his back, smiling at him.  
  
Harry lowered himself on top of him, and kissed him, then lay on his side near him.  
  
“Sex is so good with you,” Gus said.  
  
“We’re good together. Sorry about using a spell to prep you. I just had to get into your arse.”  
  
“Don’t be silly. I loved it. You nailed my prostate at the end of my orgasm, and made it last twice as long. And I love feeling you come inside. It’s so good. Do you think you might consider feltching, sometime?”  
  
“Feltching? I don’t know what it is.”  
  
“Oh. It’s just this kink I have. It’s… weird, I guess. It’s when, after you come inside my arse, you go down and suck your cum back out and clean my hole with your tongue. Most guys think it’s gross, and believe me, I get it. It’s just… Well, the thought of it really turns me on.”  
  
“Hmm. I’ll give it some thought. Most guys think rimming is gross, and I love it, so…”  
  
“Well, rimming is gross for Muggles, I guess. They can’t do Rectum et colonia, vacuo et tergeo just before. They have to rely on timing and good hygiene. I’d think twice about it too, if I were them…”  
  
“No shit!” said Harry, who could not help but add, “No pun intended.”   
  
They laughed.  
  
“Well, time to get back, I think,” said Angus.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Harry could not believe when they made it back to the castle at the exact same time as Snape. Though he knew his anger was misplaced, he couldn’t help a jab at the Professor.  
  
Snape’s response just made him angrier. Like what he had said to Harry before Justin had shown up, his reply about wishing to be a participant and not just an observer of Harry’s sexual escapade was just not on. Unless he was letting him know that Justin was just a fuck? Harry had to know. He tried for lightness and ended up being flippant, but Snape did not seem to care. His response, _“It will endure,”_ though not really answering the question was at least honest. It was not just a fuck. So why did he keep looking at Harry that way, and saying these things?  
  
But it was Snape’s answer when Harry basically told him he could wait that hurt the most. There was no point in waiting. Harry should move on, find love elsewhere.  
  
Yet the whole time, Harry was sure he could hear overwhelming emotion in Snape’s voice, see misery and regret on his face. It made no sense. Was he faking it, just to hurt Harry more?  
  
Whatever. As Harry had told Snape, the message was loud and clear. No matter what he thought he read in Snape’s looks, no matter the contrary signals Snape seemed to be sending all the times, his actions spoke louder. He did not want Harry. Not now, not ever. Harry had to face that, and live with it.  
  
He sat down at his usual place for dinner, deep in thought, and Hermione, with the wonderful way she had, gave him the time he needed. That night, he begged off studying Potions again, and they concentrated on Charms. They quizzed each other from Hermione’s notes since first year. Harry was once again impressed with how thorough his friend was, as it was obvious she had checked most facts in books from the library.  
  
They also went over old essays and tests. Harry had no idea where his were. At some point, Malfoy joined them, and he too seemed to have kept all his work. It was a very productive session, and went on deep into the night, as Madam Pince decided to read a novel at her desk to give them extra time.  
  
They had gone all the way to fourth year by the time they called it quits.  
  
“You guys are both amazing,” commented Harry. “I’d be lost without you.”  
  
“I was taught how to study in private school, Harry. They spend a lot of time teaching us how to learn, how to take notes, how to take tests,” shrugged Hermione.  
  
“Same here, Potter. I had private tutors, and they all knew the system. I was told what to keep, how to study, how to get the most out of lectures. How many kids were in your class in primary school?”  
  
“Thirty-five, I think.”  
  
“We were ten per class,” said Hermione, “And my parents put education ahead of everything else.”  
  
“I lived in a cupboard, and never had time to do my homework. Then, in the summers, while I was at Hogwarts, I was forbidden to do any. I guess it explains the differences…”  
  
“You really lived in a cupboard? I thought that was one of those legends, Potter.”  
  
“No. No legend. That’s even where my Hogwarts letter was addressed. Harry Potter, the cupboard under the stairs.”  
  
“So Dumbledore knew?”  
  
“Yes. I loved and admired that man, but at the same time… there are things about him I will never understand, that I find hard to forgive.”  
  
“I can relate. My dad is Lucius Malfoy…”  
  
The two boys looked at each other with understanding.  
  
“Well, I’m the lucky one. My dad is a peach, and so is my mum. I had an amazingly happy childhood, and I am hoping of marrying into another fabulous family.”  
  
“Yeah. That’s why we all secretly hate you, Granger…” said Draco, smirking.  
  
“Since when is it secretly, Draco?” teased Hermione.  
  
“Uh. Good point,” said Draco, smiling at her. “Though if you ever dump the Weasel, I could learn to hate you less. You’ve got a nice body, Granger. I’d love to see if your tits match my fantasy…”  
  
“Ew! Draco! Keep hating me, please. And keep your filthy mind off my tits!”  
  
“They’re nice and perky,” said Harry, “and she wears lacy underthings…”  
  
“Harry Potter! How dare you!”  
  
“Well, the knowledge is lost on me. I thought I’d pass it on to someone who would make good use of it…”  
  
“Ohhh, time for a looong shower for me!” said Draco, laughing at her, and heading towards Slytherin, as they took the stairs up towards Gryffindor.  
  
Hermione was smiling and shaking her head as they went up. “He is really quite nice and funny, isn’t he,” she said.  
  
“Yes. I really like him.”  
  
“You two should get together. You’d be a beautiful couple,” she said, sincerely.  
  
“No future though. I’m not blond, you see,” replied Harry, laughing to himself.  
  
“Why do I feel I’m missing something?”  
  
“Nothing big, trust me. But seriously, Draco will get married someday, with a pretty blond heiress, and they will produce an heir and live happily ever after, at least officially. My bet is on Astoria Greengrass. I could never be someone’s dirty secret, Hermione, never.”  
  
She smiled at him. “I know. And I love that about you.”  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
The third time Severus ran into Harry fucking someone else, it was Zachariah Smith, of all people. Severus had not even known the boy was gay, but he obviously was, and not a beginner from what Severus could assess from his comments.  
  
“Fuck! Your dick is so big! Bigger than Seamus’s even! And you fuck even better than Malfoy… Yeah, yeah, right there! Shit, you’re good. Last time I sucked Angus, he said you were the best, and fuck! He was right. I’m gonna shoot! I’m gonna shoot ! Ahhh!”  
  
Harry pulled out and came on the floor of the abandoned classroom. He immediately cast a cleaning charm on himself and the floor, and zipped up.  
  
“That was fucking great,” said Smith, turning around, “And you can come inside, you know! I promise not to get knocked up!” He laughed at his own joke. “Hey, I heard you rim like a god. Think we can do that next time?”  
  
“There won’t be a next time Zach. I did not particularly enjoy this time, and I have no intention of repeating the experience. You have a nice arse, but you are as obnoxious to fuck as you are at any other time. See you around.” And he left. As he passed Severus, who had not made it beyond the doorway, and was once again hidden by a Notice-Me-Not charm, he said to him, “Hello, Professor. Can you believe this guy?”   
and continued on down the corridor.  
  
Severus wondered if Potter was starting to think he was stalking him. He was not. He had been doing his rounds as usual, and always random-checked a few empty classrooms. It was getting embarrassing.  
  
The fourth time Severus walked in on Potter was in the Library, at a study desk that was never used because of a cold air current slipping between the stones from a secondary staircase, which would freeze anyone who sat there for more than fifteen minutes, winter _and_ summer. It also happened to be very isolated, in the z section of the rarefied subject of Elemental Transmutation, of which study had ceased about three hundred years ago. Severus had been looking for a reference text by Igor Ivanovitch Zovioff, who, in the process of experimenting on silver to tin transmutation, had discovered the blood pressure reducing properties of Merkle blue moss.   
  
Pulling the book off the shelf he’d opened a small window between the tomes on the stack. It gave him a view of the isolated desk on which Draco Malfoy was leaning as Potter gave him a blowjob. He was swallowing Malfoy’s non-negligible girth without any apparent difficulty, burying his nose in the blond pubic hair, sucking, licking, teasing, while Draco bit his fist to stay quiet, looking delirious with pleasure. He had to let go of his hand as his breath became ragged, and ran his fingers in a loving caress through Potter’s wild hair, his lips clearly forming the silent words, “I love you, I love you, I love you…” Finally, he came with a throaty whisper, “Oh, Harry…”.  
  
After gently licking him clean, Harry stood up and kissed him, tenderly pushing the sweaty blond strands from his forehead. “I just love the way your cum tastes, the way you smell,” Potter confided, smiling. Then he grinned and added, “I guess I love sucking your cock.”  
  
“I love the way you kiss,” replied Draco, smiling and caressing Harry’s lips with the tips of his fingers, and added teasingly, “and your little dominant streak.” He caressed Harry’s cheek. “I love the way you make me feel…”  
  
“We’re _so_ gushing,” remarked Potter, chuckling.  
  
Draco chuckled too. “It seems to happen anytime we have any kind of sex.” He shrugged. “I don’t mind, you don’t mind, so, who cares! No one else hears us.”  
  
“What if someone could, would you care?” asked Harry, his eyes leaving Malfoy’s as he scanned in the general direction of the stack behind which Severus stood, giving Severus the feeling that as usual, Potter knew he was there.  
  
“Hmm. If I cared that they might come to the wrong conclusion, I suppose.” Draco shrugged.   
  
“Like what?” asked Potter, caressing the blond’s face, tracing his cheek bones, his eyebrows.  
  
“Perhaps they’d think… We’ve fallen in love with each other,” said Draco, the grey eyes meeting the greens. Severus realized that his greatest fear was Draco greatest hope.  
  
“Nah, I don’t think we’d have to worry about that,” replied Harry, oblivious to Draco’s true feelings. He smiled at Draco. “With you in the mix, they’d know better. You’ve said so enough times that by now that everyone knows that, as far as you’re concerned, sex is just a fun pastime, a very pleasurable activity, in no way related to emotions.”  
  
Draco nodded, acknowledging the reputation he had made for himself. “But what about you?”  
  
“Well, I’m a hero, so they’d probably think I’m a tragic, romantic figure, with some great secret unrequited love or something equally inane, trying to feed my hungry heart with out-of-control promiscuity.” They both grinned, but Severus had the distinct feeling that Harry was talking to him.   
  
“No,” Harry continued. “I hope that if they were smart at all, they would see the situation for what it really is: two men who recently discovered they really like each other and share an explosive sexual chemistry, enjoying a moment together: that’s all.” Oh, Merlin. Harry was actually saying that to reassure _him_ , and the worst part was how pathetically grateful Severus was.  
  
Draco pulled Harry towards him. “Is that enough for you, Harry?”  
  
“It could not be anything else,” said Harry. “I have nothing else to give.” He looked at Draco, and added, smirking a little. ”And we both know some day you will marry a pretty blond girl from the landed gentry.”   
  
“Yes. A pretty blond girl. And we’ll live happily ever after,” said Draco, smiling wistfully.  
  
“You know what, Draco? I think we should enjoy what we have while we can,” said Harry, moving even closer, teasing him for a few seconds by coming in as if to kiss him and backing up to look in his eyes, and then finally kissing him gently.   
  
“Make love to me Harry,” said Draco, softly. “As if nothing else mattered and there was just the two of us in the world.”  
  
Harry lay him down on the desk, now as soft as a bed, lay next to him and kissed him, running his hands on his body as Draco’s clothes disappeared.  
  
Snape turned away and left quietly, just barely hearing Harry’s answer, “Now that we’re alone, Draco, nothing else matters to me but you.”  
  
The next time, it was Tuesday. On his way to The Three Broomsticks Severus had quickly ducked down the alley next to the pub to avoid the ever nosy and gossipy Pomona Sprout whom he had glimpsed walking in his direction. He stumbled on Harry fucking some small but gorgeous black man against the wall. Harry had heard his footsteps and glanced in his direction just in time to come while looking right in Severus’s eyes. In his bliss, he could not control want, love, and infinite sorrow from showing in his gaze.  
  
A few days after that, it was Julius Marchbanks riding Harry’s cock in a small clearing of the Forbidden Forest (where Hagrid had told Severus he could find the early toadstools he needed), Harry’s eyes closed in bliss. As soon as Severus stealthily started backing away, Harry opened them of course, freezing the Potions Master in his tracts. Their eyes met, and a look of such yearning appeared on Potter’s face, it tore at Severus’s heart. Harry came with a sound like a sob and a single tear running down his cheek.  
  
The next Tuesday, late at night, Severus was sitting at his usual place at the bar. He had refused all offers, and had sent none. He’d arrived around ten thirty, leaving his quarters as soon as Justin had fallen asleep, not with sex in mind, but just avid for a change of environment, a change of air, and knowing that this late at night, Harry would have left the pub a long time ago, having never seen him there past ten. He’d been talking to Rosmerta a while, enjoying her usual nameless gossip, laughing at her banter, when Samuel Turpin came down the stairs, looking well fucked.  
  
“Hey Snape. Going solo tonight?”  
  
“No, here for the delightful female company for a change,” replied Severus, smiling at Rosmerta.  
  
“I have a bone to pick with the present female company,” answered Samuel, looking as if he meant quite the opposite.  
  
“Oh, yes?” asked Rosmerta, laughing.  
  
“You knew he didn’t bottom, didn’t you? You knew he was going to fuck the daylights out of me…”  
  
Rosmerta shrugged, and grinned. “Are you telling me you’re sorry you went?”  
  
“Fuck no. God, it was the best fuck of my life. Who is that guy, anyway? I could have sworn I knew him from somewhere, but I can’t put my finger on it.”  
  
“I’m sure I don’t know. He just comes from time to time.”  
  
“And made me come, time and time again. Let me know if he’s ever in town again, will you?”  
  
“What, you’d bottom again?” she teased.  
  
“For him? Anytime, Rosmerta, anytime,” said Samuel, seriously, as he departed.  
  
Severus drank his elf wine silently, waiting the woman out. Finally, she stopped fussing under the bar and looked at him with a smile.  
  
“So, you’re not going to ask me about the top that left as exclusive a top as Sam Turpin happy and wanting more?”  
  
“I figured you’d get around to telling me about him when you were good and ready.”  
  
She chortled.   
  
Severus was more curious than ever. “So, you have been holding out on me?”  
  
“No, you know I wouldn’t. It just would not work between you, Severus.”  
  
“You think you know me that well?”  
  
“Twenty years is a long time, but still, I would not say so, ordinarily. But in this case, trust me my friend, this one is not for you. And it’s late. Go home.”  
  
“Why? Is your mystery top about to come down?”  
  
“No. He sleeps here, usually.”  
  
Severus did not know what to make of her expression.  
  
“What is it, Romy?” he asked, taking her hand, using the nickname only her closest friends new about.  
  
She looked sad. “Of all the boys I’ve hosted through the years, Severus, including you, I would wish for him to be happy. But I guess some people just never catch a break.” She smiled and shrugged again. “You know me and my bleeding heart. Maybe things will go his way, someday.”  
  
Severus had never seen Rosmerta quite so down. He kissed her cheek, and she locked the front door behind him. He watched from the street as she sighed and put his stool on the bar. She dried her hands on her apron, took off her heels, and walked, in stocking feet, to the door that led to her small apartment. He made his way towards Hogwarts, but before the turn, looked at the pub once again. Standing at a window of the second floor, his face lit by the gas lamp, was Harry. Though he could not possibly see Severus in the dark, he was staring right at him and Severus could have sworn the young man nodded to him before pulling down his shades.  
  
It got to the point where Severus did not dare wander from the most taken path, whether during his rounds of even while out for a walk. Anywhere else than the most populated venues he was sure to find the young man in a compromising situation, and every time, he was sure to get caught looking, whether he did for an instant or a half an hour.   
  
There were only six weeks left before the end of the year, and he didn’t know whether to wish it over or to fear it. He would not run into a naked Harry fucking someone else in the dark recesses of an abandoned corridor, but neither would he feast his eyes on the young man walking in the Great Hall, duelling in his class, playing Quidditch, and occasionally smiling at him, as if Harry had forgotten reality for an instant, and the future was still ahead of them.  
  
The twentieth of May was Septima’s birthday. Her one hundredth, for many years in a row, now, certainly for the many years he had known her. On Tuesday the nineteenth, the gift Severus had ordered for her finally arrived by owl post. Severus had had a special game of chess carved just for her, with the familiar faces of her colleagues on the pieces, Albus as king, of course, Minerva as queen, Flitwick and Sprout as bishops, Hagrid and Hooch as knights and Himself and Sinistra as Rooks. The pawns were hapless students, weighted down by books, some with their wands behind their ears or in their mouths, their hats askew.   
  
The whole thing looked fantastic, and Severus could not wait to see her reaction. He was about to wrap it when Justin came by.  
  
“Ooh!” said the young man, “you got me a gift?” Severus chuckled and looked up. Oh. Justin had not been joking.  
  
“No, Justin. Not unless you are turning a hundred and have been my friend for more years than you have been alive.”  
  
Justin made a disappointed pout and demanded, “Let me see. “   
  
Somewhat reluctantly, Severus undid the semi wrapped packaged and showed him the pieces.   
  
“Wow,” said Justin. “These must have cost a mint. What an ugly bunch…”  
  
“They are Septima’s friends, Justin. My friends as well. You may not think them attractive, but I cannot think of more pleasant faces to greet in the morning at the breakfast table. Perhaps some day you’ll understand how close you can get to people who have seen you through the worst and the best times of your life.”  
  
“Well, hopefully, _this_ is the best time of your life, and next year _I_ will be the one greeting you for breakfast in the morning.”  
  
Severus sighed. Well he’d put it off long enough. “About that Justin: I know we have discussed plans for the coming year, but some complications have arisen.”  
  
Justin frowned. “What complications? I thought it was all set and decided.”  
  
“The new Potions Professor is not up to the task, Justin. He has to be replaced.”  
  
“Don’t tell me you are even considering teaching Potions again! The stained hand, the greasy hair, the jaundiced skin! No thank you!”  
  
“I’m not!” said Severus, annoyed that Justin would never understand his passion for his art. “I am helping Minerva recruit a new teacher for the coming year. It made me realize that she also has to hire a new Transfiguration professor. I cannot in good conscience put her through having to search for a new DADA professor as well. I thought to remain an extra year, and help things settle down before adding to her burden.”  
  
“You have got to be kidding! The way she treated you last year? Why should you care! And she can just hire anyone for your job. Even Dumbledore never took DADA seriously. For god’s sake Severus! DADA is a joke!”  
  
“Is it now? It is nice to hear what you think of a subject into which I have poured so much of my energy this past year, and in which I happen to hold a Mastery. It certainly puts what you think of my life’s work into perspective. And what, may I ask, were you planning on bending your brilliant mind to this next year?”  
  
“Oh! Don’t act all insulted! Six months ago, you were letting yourself die despite your passion for teaching and your life’s work in Potions and Defence, or have you forgotten? Where were your friends then? I was there for you when you really needed help, and I am planning on being your lover, your best friend, your companion of every hour, to share my life with you! But I guess my devotion pales in comparison to old Septima’s.”  
  
Severus was angry at Justin, and felt guilty for being angry at him, and angry at him for feeling guilty. “I am very much looking forward to seeing the world with you, to sharing my life with you, Justin, but I have never agreed to forgetting my previous life, the affection I feel for some of my colleagues, the debt of gratitude I owe them. I do not intend to live in isolation for the rest of my life.”  
  
“So you have already made up your mind. You have made a decision that affects both our futures without even consulting me. What am I to you, Severus? A fuck toy?”  
  
(‘How could that be, since you so completely suck at it?’ said Draco’s voice in Severus’s head.)  
  
“Oh, shut up!” yelled Severus, exasperated with his inner voice.  
  
“Oh, my god! Is that the way I can expect you to talk to me anytime we disagree on something?” asked Justin, outraged.  
  
“No! No, Justin. I apologize. I wasn’t speaking to you. Well, I wasn’t speaking to anyone. Never mind. I am sorry. I did make the decision to remain an extra year without consulting you. I knew you would be disappointed, and I… Well, I want to make you happy, Justin, but I do have others to consider. Can’t you understand that? You have friends. Do you intend on severing all bonds with them as soon as you walk out of the castle door? Surely there are people you are close to. Your fellow Hufflepuffs? Some of the Slytherins I often have seen you with, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Zabini? Some of the Ravenclaws, Julius Marchbanks, Angus McGraw?...”  
  
“I would give them up in the blink of an eye if I had to choose between you and them.”  
  
“But you do not! No one is asking you to. Is giving up everyone in my life the price I have to pay for your companionship?”  
  
Somehow, Justin seemed to think better of his knee jerk response. “No. No, I guess not. I just thought I was… enough. I was just being selfish and wanting you all to myself. Maybe if our relationship wasn’t such a secret. Maybe if they all knew what we mean to each other.”  
  
Severus frowned, looking at Justin, wondering where the young man was going.  
  
“You know as well as I do how homosexuals are treated by society Justin. I would lose my position in an instant if our relationship was made public. We have not been discreet for the sakes of Hogwarts regulations alone.”  
  
“Well, you say the other teachers are your friend. That they have supported you, though how you can say that after last year, I can’t imagine. This party for Septima Vector, Severus, why can’t I go too? Why can’t we be a real couple? I will only be a student for a short while longer. If they are such close friends, would they mind so very much?”  
  
Severus sat down, his head in his hands. He pictured himself entering Septima’s quarters with his lover, Justin, eighteen, at his side. He could think of a few relationships with students his colleagues might actually understand if not condone, even if the student were male, as he had no doubt that outside of the most recent hires, who would most probably be included in the birthday celebration, all his colleagues were aware of his sexual inclination and he did not doubt their friendship. But Justin Finch-Fletchley?   
Average student, but such a nice looking boy? Nothing at all to explain their association but… sex? (‘Mediocre sex at that. All right, all right, I’ll shut up!’ Said Draco.) Dear god. Severus realized he would be mortified should his relationship with Justin be discovered. No one would ever understand, and he could not bear explain.  
  
“Justin, you ask for the impossible. Our association will remain secret until I leave Hogwarts permanently and no longer seek employment. You will have to bear it. Next year, once you are no longer a student, it will be essential that you not be seen outside of my rooms. It will make it much easier if you pursue some course of study, and not attend to me, naked in our quarters, all day and all night. I have no intention to be thought a pervert with his young sex slave or for Hogwarts and Minerva’s reputation to be tainted by any kind of scandal. Your Charms grades are adequate. Perhaps you might consider continuing in that field though I know Filius has ever only accepted truly exceptional students as apprentices.”  
  
“You are ashamed of me! Oh my god! You are ashamed of me! After everything I… O god! I can’t stand it! I thought you loved me! I thought you needed me, wanted me! Why am I even here Severus?”  
  
“Justin! I am not ashamed of you!” said Severus, not sure it was true. “I am ashamed of myself, for needing you, for wanting you, and yes, for loving you, as young and innocent as you were when I found you. People do not know our history, they do not know in what desperate straights I was and that it took a seventeen year old to give me back the will to live. I should have been stronger, I should not have fallen so low! It is me I am ashamed of, not you!”  
  
“Well. I am proud to be your lover! I don’t care what others think. You have a decision to make, Severus. Either you take me tomorrow, and let me take my rightful place at your side, to let the other teacher’s know that to be your friend, they have to accept me as part of the deal, or I will tell everyone myself. You hear me! Everyone!” He entered Severus’s bedroom, slamming the door behind him.  
  
Severus was stunned. How had things degenerated so quickly? For the past two weeks, Severus felt that though he was haunted at every turn by the spectre of a love he’d never know, he and Justin had made some headways, Justin less brash, Severus less demanding, Justin less childish, Severus more accepting. And now this?  
  
What the hell was he to do now?  
  
No matter what, his career, his life as he had known it were over. He would not bring Justin to his friend’s party, to be misjudged by his peers and thrown out of Hogwarts quietly for professional misconduct. He would not let Justin make him the target of ridicule by uncovering their affair to everyone, with the same, if more public, final result.   
  
For years he had been reviled. For years, he had been bitterly lonely and unhappy. This was the year when he was to reap a bit of joy, a bit of happiness as his reward. He had lowered his expectations, and accepted that all his dreams would not be coming true, but this? This he had not foreseen. Once again, he faced public scorn, once again he would live with disapproval and contempt.   
  
He was fucked if he did, and fucked if he didn’t, ruined either way.  
  
Well. So be it then. But that was tomorrow. Tonight, he would reach for a little of the joy and happiness he had deluded himself he deserved after all these years. He might leave in shame tomorrow, but not before having touched heaven at least once. He got up, and headed for The Three Broomsticks. He was very early for a Tuesday, but he needed to speak to Rosmerta.  
  
“Severus? What are you doing here so early?”  
  
“I want a room, Romy. And I want him, your mystery top.”  
  
“Severus…”  
  
“Romy, I know who it is, and… I love him. I’ve loved him for years. And he loves me. If circumstances were different, I would be the happiest of men, and I would give everything in my power to give to make him happy. But as you said, some people just never catch a break. I just want one night, just one beautiful night with the man I love. Tomorrow… May tomorrow never come.”  
  
“It was you? It was you who took the light out of this boy’s eyes? How? Why? No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to hear your excuses, I might empathize. There is only one thing for you to do Severus. Make it right. Don’t tell me you can’t. Just do it, whatever it takes. Here. Room eight. He’ll be there. Fix it. Now go. He and his friends get here early. Get out of the way.”


	4. Part 4

  
It was Tuesday again. Sitting with friends at the three broomsticks, Harry was deep in thoughts. He felt as if he were stalked. At every turn, regardless of how well he hid, Severus Snape was there to witness his sexual encounters. Draco’s had been the first, and since then, no place seemed remote enough to keep his trysts out of Snape’s knowledge. He did not think Snape had anything to do with it. They just constantly happened to be at the same place at the same time when Harry’s cock was in someone arse, or Harry’s mouth full of someone’s cock.  
  
At first, when it happened, he’d been angry, then vengeful, then amused, but finally fucking others to satiate his yearning for one man, as that man inevitably looked on, just made him fell wretchedly alone and terribly, terribly sad.  
  
He hopelessly loved Severus Snape. He liked Marcus, cared for Draco, got along great with Angus. But his heart belonged to Snape, his soul craved him, his body could not feed its hunger for him with the surrender of others.  
  
For some unfathomable reason, Snape was with Fletch. Justin Finch-Fletchley, of all people! He might have understood Snape with Draco, who had been in love with him for so long. Snape and just about anyone would actually make more sense than Snape with Justin, because as far as anyone knew, Justin was still Blaise’s beloved boyfriend. He had seen Blaise fuck him in the library stacks only the night before, Blaise crying out Justin’s name as he came, so fucking in love with that worm.  
  
He wondered if Snape would make an apparition at The Three Broomsticks that night, if Justin and his relationship was an open one, or if it was exclusive, at least on Snape’s side. Blaise certainly thought he and Justin were monogamous, but he was blinded by love. Was Snape also in the Hufflepuff’s thrall, both snakes taken in by the innocent blue eyes? Salazar Slytherin must be turning over in his grave …  
  
He scanned the room. There was a tall dark haired man alone at the bar, giving him _that_ look, but Harry was with Seamus and Julius, and Hermione and Ron were supposed to show up as well, so he was in no hurry. When the man looked at him again before heading for the loo, Harry let him go. Some other man was following him already anyway. Then, without warning, Rosmerta dropped a key next to Harry’s butterbeer.  
He looked up at her, surprised by this breach of the normal protocol. She smiled warmly.  
  
“Trust me, Harry. It’s nothing nefarious. Go.”  
  
His curiosity was peeked. His best guess was that Marcus wanted to see him again, and was worried Harry would not come, not wanting their friendship to go any further than it had. He liked Marcus. A lot.  
  
With the usual pang, he recalled that Snape did not want him, and had made it clear that he never would. Maybe he could be frank with Marcus, tell him how things were and give a relationship with him a chance.  
He finished his drink, only vaguely listening to Seamus and Julius’s jokes.  
  
Finally, he stood up and said, “I’m off, gentlemen. Don’t wait up.”  
  
They grinned at him, continuing their conversation. He went upstairs. There was an eight engraved in the key. It was his usual room. He opened the door and went in. Though there was still a hint of evening light outside, the heavy velvet curtains had been drawn and as soon as he entered, he felt privacy spells as strong as his own go up around the room.  
  
A tall, dark haired man stood watching the fire in the hearth with his back to the door. Harry smiled. Marcus. Then the man turned around, and walked towards Harry.  
  
It hurt like hell that it was Severus Snape.  
  
“Ah!” said Harry, his heart constricting, but resolving never to make himself vulnerable to Snape again. “Is this to be a lecture then, about my promiscuity? My brazen behaviour? The risks I take coming into an unknown man’s room?”  
  
Snape shook his head, his attitude defeated, lost and sad, his eyes on the rug. “No. I am not enough of a hypocrite to lecture you, Mr. Potter. Nor am I going to pretend to be here for anything but the usual reason,” he added, looking up at Harry with eyes filled with yearning.  
  
“Are you saying you are here for a one night stand, with me?” asked Harry, disbelieving.  
  
Snape looked away again and nodded once. Ashamed? Scared?  
  
“Why? Why now?” Harry cried, his heart flailed again despite his resolve. ”Just a few weeks ago, I would have sold my soul to the devil for a night with you, for you to take some interest in me, fuck! For just one loving word from you. But you didn’t want me!” Shit. Tears filled his eyes. Why did Snape continue to torture him this way? How could he ever move on with Snape constantly playing with his feelings? He fucking loved him so much! And it hurt, so, so bad… “Why does it amuse you so much to keep tormenting me? You chose someone else, Snape!” said Harry, whose voice broke, as he kissed the last of his pride goodbye, “You have a lover, _for the duration_. Go to him, damn you, and let me die in peace!” He opened the door, ready to step out of the room.  
  
“Five minutes of your time… Harry. Please, let me explain myself. I… I beg you.”  
  
Snape saying please? Begging? Harry sighed and wiped his face, so tired suddenly, so heart sick, and confused, and so, so hurt. He closed the door, turned around, and leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed. Snape looked as broken as Harry felt.  
  
“Thank you.” Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, apparently putting his thoughts in order, and took a deep breath. What could he possibly have to say?  
  
 _Justin, tousled, naked, his cock still glistening with come, his pubes matted with lube, hard again, “Severus, are you ever coming back to bed?”_  
  
Finally, Snape started talking, very softly. “You have been… my dream, Harry. A secret I kept deep in my heart since you grew from a child to a young man. But I had made sure you hated me. How was I to know, to ever imagine you could see beyond the abuse, the harassment, and that you would some day offer me my dearest wish?  
  
“After waking up from my coma, I… I lost my bearings for a while. I might have given up altogether, but someone noticed my descent into self-destruction and called me back from the brink with a series of written notes. He was the only one who saw, the only one who cared. I would have died without him. When I got better, I needed to know whom I owed my life to. He had made no secret of his gender, nor of his interest in me. I looked to the young men I suspected were so inclined, Mr. Zabini, Mr. McGraw, Mr. Marchbanks, Mr. Finnegan… Justin Finch-Fletchley admitted it was he who had written me before I even confronted him. I cannot help the way I feel about you, nor my response to your feelings, and Justin is not… well, he is what he is. But he wants to be with me and shouldn’t I give him what he wants when I owe him absolutely everything?”  
  
Harry wanted to scream at Snape for having been fooled by that worm, and wanted to kill Justin for usurping his place. Yet Snape was here, wasn’t he? Here for a one-night stand with the man who really loved him, whom he really loved. One night. Harry wanted it so badly. Should he just take what he could get, have this one night, and let Snape go?  
  
Over his dead body.  
  
He moved to the desk, found a biro (of all things!) in the drawer and a piece of parchment. He wrote quickly while speaking.  
  
“If he was the only one who noticed that you did not eat and wore gloves to hide your hands and something under you robes to hide how gaunt you had become, the only one who worried that you had cut yourself off from everything and everyone, that you did nothing but teach and sleep, then of course he deserves your gratitude… and certainly your loyalty.”  
  
Snape nodded, accepting the gentle rebuke, and looked relieved that Harry understood. He waited patiently as Harry wrote. Harry felt the man’s eyes travelling on his body, his profile, as if he was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. Finished with his note, he looked up and their eyes met. The dark gaze was so intense, so full of meaning that Harry had to break eye contact or he would succumb to temptation and do something foolish.  
  
Harry handed Snape the piece of parchment, folded in four. “You know how much I want you, but you should not be here, disappointed in who Justin is, resigned to a less than perfect relationship, and trying to get from someone else what you should get from him. You should be searching deeper behind his selfish, childish persona and trying to find the man who had the wherewithal to save you. Justin is my contemporary. Perhaps I can relate to him better, and help you open the lines of communication. Asking him the questions on this list might, I think, help you to find the person behind the notes.”  
  
Snape frowned and made as if to open the parchment. Harry stopped him. “No! Don’t look at this now, look at it when you both are ready to talk to one another. If after you discuss this with him you still want what you came for today, I will be here next Tuesday, and the next, and the next, waiting for you. I promise you that no matter what, I will love you with everything I have, everything I am, I will give you all that I can.”  
  
Harry could not help but walk to Snape and place his hand behind the man’s head. He closed the gap between them until their lips almost touched. “I love you so much,” he whispered, before kissing him desperately. Snape’s answer was no less passionate, raising the hair on the back of Harry’s neck and filling his cock with blood and expectations.  
  
“Harry… Harry, I…”  
  
Harry lay his hand on Snape’s lips. “Shhh… I’ll be here next Tuesday, and if you come then, you can tell me. But you owe it to the man who wrote these notes to get to know the real Justin. Good bye, Professor Snape.”  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
Harry left and Severus collapsed on the chair in front of the fire. He was so in love with Harry. This was the man he wanted, the kind of man he had hoped for, a man who, though in love with him, sent him back to his lover to talk, to resolve their uneven relationship, reminding him he owed the man gratitude _and_ loyalty.  
  
Snape apparated to Hogwarts gates and walked to his quarters. As he expected, as soon as he stepped in, Justin appeared from the bedroom, in his usual t-shirt and boxers. He’d evidently just come out of the shower, his ringlets still moist. He ran to Severus and kissed him, tears in his eyes.  
  
“You’re back! I know you were mad. And it’s Tuesday. I thought… Oh, god, I was sure you’d… I know I’m a lousy top, and childish and demanding. I was being ridiculous, asking for things you cannot give me yet. Thank you for coming back, for not… going to someone else. Feel me! I’m so hard for you. Let me fuck you. I want to. I want inside you, please…” He pulled Severus inside the bedroom.  
  
“Justin…”  
  
“Please Severus. Let me show you how I feel!”  
  
Snape stayed silent for a minute and finally said, “No, Justin. Not this time. This time we shall talk first, as we should have done from the start. I need to get to know the man I owe my life to, and only once I do and can think of you in that context shall we make love again.” Severus sat in his bedroom reading chair, not wanting the distraction the bed could bring.  
  
Apparently appeased, Justin smiled at him as he sat on the armrest of the chair. “All right. Let’s learn things about each other if it is what you need. My favourite colour is blue, the name of my dog growing up was Chet, I was born August 17th, my middle name is Nathaniel. You?”  
  
Snape appreciated his willingness, though he meant to share more than silly facts. He answered, “Black, no pet, January 19th, Tobias.”  
  
“Tobias? I like Tobias. What else would you like to know?”  
  
Was it significant that the young man’s only remark had been that he liked the name of the father who had beaten Severus and his mother into unconsciousness more than once? Of course not. He was being unfair.  
Severus was glad he had Harry’s suggested questions to guide him. It _was_ difficult for him to know how to approach someone like Justin. He opened the first fold of the parchment given to him by Potter. There it said, “A memory game for lovers.” What was that about?  
  
“All right,” said Justin enthusiastically, reading over his shoulder. “I have a fabulous memory.”  
  
Maybe Potter knew what he was doing… Severus opened the paper all the way, turning it away from Justin and read aloud, _“How many words were in the first note you ever send me?”_  
  
In parenthesis was the answer: _(3)_ , as if Severus could forget the “Eat, you Git!” that landed on his toast!  
  
“Severus! That was forever ago! Ask me another!” whined Justin.  
  
Severus shivered suddenly. How in the hell had Potter known this, and why didn’t Justin?  
  
 _“Which note of yours did I completely ignore?”_ He asked, reading the second question.  
  
The answer, again, appeared in parentheses. _(The third. “It’s only seven. Too early for bed. Go brew something.”)_  
  
“How would I know if you ignored my note or not?” asked Justin. “I wasn’t aware you’d ignored any. Should I be mad?”  
  
Severus’s body was covered in cold sweat. Harry. Oh, God! This whole time, it had been Harry! Severus was so stupid, so blind! How many clues did Potter need to give him? He suddenly realized what Harry had said earlier, _“If he was the only one who noticed that you did not eat but wore gloves to hide your hands and something under you robes to hide how gaunt you had become, the only one who worried that you had cut yourself off from everything and everyone, that you did nothing but teach and sleep, then of course he deserves your gratitude and certainly, your loyalty.”_  
  
Severus had never mentioned any of what “Justin” had observed, just that Justin had pulled him back from the brink. But Justin hadn’t, of course. Harry had. From the start, Justin had brazened it out, and continued to do so right now, with amazing aplomb. One had to admire his boldness.  
  
“No, you should not. It was unimportant,” Severus lied. More for himself than for the youth, whom he knew now to be a shameless usurper, he continued “Next: _Give me one of the reasons “why” you were glad I was better.”  
  
(In case you’ve forgotten them, they were in this note:  
  
Severus,  
I do not have leave to use your given name, but considering I have already called you a git, I hope you will forgive me. I love the sound of it, when I speak it aloud.  
  
Why, you asked.  
  
Because I do not seem to be able to help watching you.  
  
Because I did not like the way your dark and forbidding presence was fading away.  
  
Because I missed the glint in your eyes. Though it so often was vicious in the past, even that would have been better than the awful flatness that had taken its place.  
  
Because I love the elegance of your walk and the way your hands dance when you teach, and I was afraid to lose them.  
  
Because though your old voice was beautiful and did sound like melted chocolate, your new voice drives me to distraction and sends shivers down my spine.  
  
All of them entirely selfish reasons I hope you will forgive._ )  
  
Severus reread them with tears in his eyes. He had given back that note, and had forgotten its exact contents. He loved all of them, because each and every one of them showed him Harry loved him.  
  
“My favourite was the fourth one, that one,” said Justin pointing. He had been reading the parchment Severus had neglected to keep hidden from him. It felt like a horrible violation. Realizing that if he stayed in the same room with this… person he would do something unforgivable, Snape stood up quickly.  
  
“Severus? Where are you going?” God! That petulant tone! “What are you doing?”  
  
Before Severus could answer, there was a knock on his quarter’s door. The perfect excuse, though the last thing Severus wanted was further public display of his indiscretion with _this_ student, and further publicity that he had been so completely and disgracefully taken in by a scheming Hufflepuff.  
  
“I just recalled I had an appointment, Justin. Please do remain in the bedroom this time? I will not forgive your exposure of our liaison again nor your interruption of my duties to a Hogwarts student. I will be back as soon as I can, you can be sure of it.”  
  
Carefully closing the bedroom door behind him, he fought to regain his composure as he went to open the front door, determined to keep the interruption short and to then resolve the situation with Justin in as expedient and final a way as possible.  
  
He opened his front door on Blaise Zabini who was looking much the worse for wear. To see someone usually so controlled suddenly appearing so distressed was shocking enough that Severus forgot his decision and opened his door wider to let him in. Zabini held Snape’s letter of recommendation in his hand.  
  
Hoping to help the young man calm down, Severus offered, “Tea, Mr. Zabini?”  
  
“Yes, thank you, sir.”  
  
“Have a sit. I cannot help but notice you seem upset.”  
  
“I am sorry, sir,” said Zabini, making an obvious effort not to break down in front of his old Head of House. “I should be able to control my emotions better than some… Hufflepuff.” He had spat the word out with so much coldness, Severus would not have been surprised to see frost on his lips. Zabini took a deep breath, eyes closed, and after a moment was able to get to the heart of the matter. “I… I should have heeded your advice sir, and done what was best for my future without taking anyone else into account. My… boyfriend has found a better prospect and told me today he has decided to terminate our association.”  
Strange. Finnegan had looked positively thrilled when telling Zabini about their lodging in Cambridge.  
  
“Do you mean he has decided to study with a Master himself, or study out of Britain?”  
  
“No sir,” answered Zabini bitterly. “He has apparently found himself an older lover who has already received his inheritance and therefore he sees no need to continues his studies at all. He can be kept in the fashion he is accustomed to without having to wait for my mother’s passing.”  
  
Shig popped into being holding a tea tray and served both men according to their taste, placing a plate of speculoos biscuits within Zabini’s reach. He immediately picked one up, dipped it in his tea and took a delicate bite. Shig looked pleased. She had obviously hoped to make him feel better in her own way with a personal favourite, displaying the power of observation and the true kindness of the small creatures.  
  
Finnegan as a fortune hunter? He did not seem the type. “Were you aware your mother’s fortune played a role in his choosing you as a lover?” asked Severus, taking a sip from his perfectly prepared cup.  
  
“No. He had always claimed to want, like me, to make his own way in the world. He also comes from a very wealthy background, but apparently, to benefit, would have to return to the Muggle world.” The young man drained his cup. Shig popped back in to refill it.  
  
Snape frowned. He had not been aware that the Finnegans were particularly wealthy, and was quite sure Seamus Finnegan was a half-blood. He left solving that puzzle for another time.  
  
“So, have you decided to work with a Master then?” he asked, concentrating on the probable reason for Zabini’s visit.  
  
“Yes, sir. As the matter of fact, if there was any hope of you remaining on at Hogwarts…”  
  
“I have decided to retire from teaching after this next year and move back to my family’s estate where I shall conduct private research…” Severus stopped. Moving to the Prince Mansion and travelling around the properties he had inherited from his ancestors and from Albus was something he was supposed to have done with Justin, Justin’s idea, really... But Justin would be exiting his life permanently that very evening. Severus loved teaching DADA, and Harry wanted to do a Mastery with him. He had no desire to retire now, to live off his inheritance… _his inheritance…_  
  
Oh, dear god.  
  
Could it be? Had he, the entire time, been mistaken as to the identity of Blaise Zabini’s lover? He brushed aside the thought and concentrated again on his interlocutor.  
  
“I apologize, Mr. Zabini. I seem to have been distracted for a moment. What I meant to say was that I _had_ thought to retire and pursue private research but that circumstances have changed. However, I have already decided to accept the request to apprentice from another student, who would be pursuing a Mastery in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Were I to allow you to apprentice in Potions under my tutelage, the two of you would be called to spend a significant amount of time in each other’s company. It would therefore be most beneficial were your relationship to be harmonious. Mr. Zabini, how do you get along with Mr. Potter?”  
  
“Fine, sir. We are not close friends, just acquaintances, really and well… we have never been… involved. I respect him. He befriended Draco Malfoy at a time when, except for myself, Draco was friendless and absolutely without clout. I think that says a lot about his character.”  
  
“Very well. I will speak to him regarding his own Apprenticeship in the very near future, and then will let Headmistress McGonagall know of my intentions. You should receive confirmation of your status within the fortnight. Please remain discreet about it until then. There are a quite a few other people involved with whom I need to speak before it becomes public knowledge.”  
  
“Of cour…” Blaise Zabini’s beautiful dark mahogany skin turned grey, and he dropped his teacup into its saucer, breaking the last neatly in half. The cup then hit the floor and shattered on impact. He stood up, his arms falling to his sides, dropping the remaining half saucer to its splintering demise.  
  
“Justin?”  
  
Severus turned around. It was a replay of the Potter incident, though mercifully this time a least Justin was wearing his boxers and his cock was not tenting them. Seeing his expression at the sight of Zabini, all of Severus’s suspicions came home to roost.  
  
“Professor Snape? Professor Snape is your better prospect?” asked Zabini, shattered.  
  
Justin’s eyes went from him to Severus and back, as he was obviously trying to think of some rational explanation he could feed Severus about this development. Severus made a quick decision. Never mind avoiding a public display. Justin was a despicable little shit, a lousy lay, and had almost ruined his chances with the man he loved. This was the perfect time to throw him out on his arse.  
  
In his coldest Professor Snape voice he said, “Mr. Finch-Fletchley, you will put your uniform back on and vacate these premises immediately and permanently. Whether your intention in showing yourself in such a state of dishabille is to tarnish my reputation with rumours of my associating with a student, or whether it reflect some ridiculous hope to actually entice me in some sexual congress, let me make it clear to you that your presence here is now completely unwelcomed.”  
  
Justin, looking guilty and yet apparently wrongly believing he could talk himself back into Severus’s good grace, opened his mouth to respond. Severus interrupted him, pinning him with a glare. “I have no interest whatsoever in hearing anything more you may have to say, now or ever.” He waved his suddenly appeared wand in Justin’s direction. “To prove my point, were you to again address me or approach me, or be seen anywhere in the dungeons where, since you do not take potions, you have no business loitering, you shall lose the power of speech. The first time for three hours, the second for three weeks, the third time permanently. Is that clear?”  
  
“But Sev…” Justin grabbed at his throat, panicked, as his lips worked and no sound came forth.  
  
Severus rolled his eyes. “Were you under the impression I was anything less than serious, Mr. Finch-Fletchley? Let this be your first warning: Three hours without your voice. Do not make the mistake to try and speak to me again. Now kindly remove yourself from my sight. Gather whatever belongings you have had the audacity to pollute my private space with and be gone.“  
  
Severus slammed the door to the bedroom shut with a wandless push, hopefully on Justin scrambling to assemble his clothing and toiletries. Blaise had sat back down, bewildered. Snape sat down again as well, across from him.  
  
“So, Mr. Zabini, where were we?” he asked, as if Justin’s interruption was not worthy of mention.  
  
“You… Uh, you wanted me to keep the news of your decision to accept me as an apprentice to myself for a while.”  
  
“Just so. Will there be anything else?”  
  
Zabini looked at the closed bedroom door, unable to follow his mentor’s lead and dismiss the recent development so easily. “Did you really curse him, sir? Would he actually permanently lose his voice?”  
  
“Mr. Zabini, you surprise me,” said Severus with mild reproach.  
  
Blaise Zabini said, “There is no such curse, is there?”  
  
“Of course not,” acquiesced Snape, approvingly. “I just used a wandless, wordless Silencio spell. As you are aware, without a proper Finite Incantatem, it will take about three hours to wear out.”  
  
Zabini confided quietly, evidently needing to speak to someone about his pain. “He has been lying to me for weeks, saying he needed time alone to study for the NEWTS without distractions, to do well and make me proud. Draco told me I was a fool, that Justin was a liar and a cheat and that he and Draco had continued a sexual relationship, despite our involvement, until quite recently. Drake said he finally had put an end to it because he’d fallen for someone, Potter, I think.”  
  
He shook his head as if disbelieving his own stupidity. “Draco has been my best friend for seven years, but still I chose to believe Justin, who said Draco was just jealous of our closeness.” Once again, his voice was filled with bitterness when he added, “Until this morning that is, when Justin laughed at me and told me what I believed to be his undying love had all been a fabrication. I don’t think I will ever be able to love or trust anyone again.”  
  
Though hating to state such ineffective platitudes, Severus answered, “You may not believe so now, but you will love again, Mr. Zabini, someone worthy of your attachment this time.” On a whim, he continued, “ And in the next three years, I am sure you will learn to trust again, as well. You will, after all, associate in that time with two of the trust worthiest wizards in all of Britain.”  
  
“Sir?”  
  
Severus said with a smirk, “The first is Harry Potter, of course, a perfect Gryffindor and a gentleman, whom you can blindly trust with your very life, and I am the second.”  
  
He looked thoughtful. “Well, unless you are the follower of some Dark Lord, in which case I’ll betray you as a matter of fact… Or an annoying student, to whom I will lie with a straight face about an imaginary curse that will take off his ba… pardon me, his voice… Other than these caveats… and perhaps a few… well, _quite_ a few others, I am absolutely trustworthy. Somewhat. For a Slytherin, that is…”  
  
Blaise Zabini started laughing quietly, his shoulders shaking. Severus was astonished at himself. He had created that little tirade for the sole purpose of making the young man feel less wretched, and it had worked. It was surprisingly rewarding.  
  
They were still smiling when Justin came out of the bedroom with a large bag on his back. He seemed nonplussed to find them in such a good mood and, his face bathed in tears, did not seem to know whom to direct his pleading blue eyes towards. Which of these two suckers was most likely to take him back? It didn’t help when, after barely glancing his way, they continued their conversation. With a silent wail, Justin ran out of Severus’s quarters and slammed the door.  
  
“Well, Mr. Zabini,” said Severus, getting up, “Good luck with your NEWTS, and I am looking forward to continuing your education this September.”  
  
“Yes, sir. Goodnight, Sir.”  
  
“Goodnight, Mr. Zabini.”  
  
Alone in his quarters, Severus went to his bedroom. There was a letter on his pillow with his name on the envelope. He took it and threw it in the fire without bothering to read it. The idea of sleeping in a bed where he had _made love_ to a man (a Hufflepuff, no less!) who had succeeded in so completely fooling him did not sit well. He called Shig, apologized for the late hour, but asked that his bedroom and bathroom be scoured clean immediately, and the towels, sheets, and comforter cover replaced.  
  
It would not erase his disgrace but might ease its sting, somewhat. The elf surprisingly asked for three hours. Severus retired to his sitting room to wait. He sat down in front of a freshened tea tray, on which Bourbon Biscuits had replaced the Speculoos, one of his rare indulgences, and extracted Harry’s note from his pocket, to finish reading it.  
  
 _“No more questions for Justin,”_ it read. _“Hopefully, your conversation with him was enlightening.  
  
“I told myself I would not give you a chance to hurt me again, but after what you said this evening, I can’t help feeling hope. I let go of the hatred you voluntarily inspired when I realized it had only been a necessary evil, for you to protect me. That done, how could I help falling in love with you, as I learned to see you for who you really are? It seems as if a part of you has thawed after years of winter.  
It was so amazing the first time I saw you smile… I love your smile. I want to kiss it, feel it against my naked skin, and be the source and the recipient of it, again, and again. Your laugh! It’s ridiculous that it was such a shock to realize that you could laugh.  
  
“This week, we will see each other in class, maybe even have to talk to each other but I would rather wait to discuss this until you know for sure what you want, so that whatever you decide, you’ll have had a chance to really think about it. I’ll wait in bedroom number eight next Tuesday, and either you’ll join me, or you won’t. I will accept your decision. But if you do come to me, you might as well know that I will never let you go again and that I will do everything in my power to show you, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that you made the right decision…  
  
Yours, Harry.”_  
  
Severus’s lowered the note to his lap, and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes. “ _Yours,_ ” it said. Harry was _his_. He buried his face in his hands, stopped fighting, and allowed his relief, his gratefulness, happiness, hope, fear and love to overcome him. The last of his frozen heart, his capacity for love, empathy, friendship, trust, joy and generosity was freed from its seventeen-year ice-lock. Eventually, his shoulders stopped shaking. Severus took a linen napkin off the tea tray, wiped his face and blew his nose in it, imagining his maternal grandmother turning over in her grave at that breach of etiquette and smiling about it.  
  
He was exhausted. He reclined on his leather couch, which he had picked because it comfortably accommodated his 6’4” frame, closed his eyes, and fell immediately to sleep.  
  
It was two in the morning when Shig shook him gently and told him she and the other elves were done. Severus felt both guilty and a little ridiculous about his request to her, but she seemed thrilled. He accompanied her to his bedroom, planning to express his appreciation, and was blown away.  
  
Gone were the beiges and browns. The walls were a beautiful blue grey. The furniture had evidently been cleaned and waxed in a darker, almost chocolate colour. On the bed were crisp white sheets with a border of blue lace and a beautiful dark blue velvet duvet cover with some silver-grey embroidery, matching bed curtains lined with silk the colour of the walls, a gorgeous rug covering almost the entire stone floor, with intricate designs of blues and greens including fantastic flowers and animals…  
  
He was almost afraid to enter the bathroom… It too had been repainted, in a lighter blue, and in a surprising addition to the existing large claw foot tub and the glass enclosed corner shower, there now was a second pedestal sink, twin to his own. There were new grey towels and new mirror-lined silver sconces on the walls, the candles giving a truer yet somehow softer light than the torches that had been there before. He went back to the bedroom where he faced five smiling elves in their Hogwarts tea towels, standing in a line besides Shig.  
  
“You have all performed your task well above expectations this evening,” he said to them, honestly.  
“These rooms are very beautiful. I am deeply grateful for your hard work.”  
  
One of them answered, “Master Snape is welcome,” and all five popped out of sight. Only Shig remained.  
  
“How did you know to choose this particular blue, Shig?” asked Severus, out of curiosity.  
  
“Years ago, Shig is hearing Master Severus say the colour of the sky after the rain is being so soothing.”  
Severus nodded, vaguely recalling a conversation he’d had with Hagrid. He ran his hand on the soft velvet of the duvet, and looked more closely at the embroidery. “Two snakes for Slytherin, the crowned raven for the Prince crest, but why the three small flowers?” he asked.  
  
“One Snake _is_ for Master Severus being a Slytherin. The other one is for Master Harry being a parselmouth. And the three flowers is being the Potter crest for when Master Harry is moving in.”  
  
Severus looked up sharply. “Shig, what are you talking about?”  
  
“Shig is knowing Master Severus loves his Harry, sir, and Kreacher is knowing Master Harry loves his Severus,” she said matter-of-factly. “The nasty lying two faced little worm go bye-bye, so Master Severus and Master Harry is getting together soon now.”  
  
The ancient elf grinned at Severus, her face as wrinkled as an old apple, patting the new bedding, “and they is making lots and lots of good sex right here.” She cackled. “About time there be lots and lots of good sex in here! Master Severus is deserving it!” Still cackling, she dissaparated, leaving Severus in shock.  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
Harry had stepped out of The Three Broomsticks to try to get his wayward emotions under control. His meeting with Snape had created an upheaval in his wary heart. Had he done the right thing? Was it better for Snape to discover he had been duped on his own, instead of hearing it from Harry? What if Snape decided not to use his questions in his conversation with Justin and allowed that worm to further ensconce himself in his life? Did Snape harbour other feelings besides gratitude for the cheating Hufflepuff?  
Would Harry once again wait in vain for a sign that Snape wanted to be more than his teacher?  
  
Their kiss had been so lovely. To Harry’s passionate desperation, Snape had answered with no less passion, but with a tenderness Harry would not have thought to expect from the man. It had made him feel precious, beloved, in ways he had not experienced before. Fennel, mint, aniseed. Snape’s mouth had had the clean taste of plants, his tongue gently caressing, yet possessive.  
  
Harry allowed himself a few moments of fantasy, imagining what other surprises he might find, making love to that man. He had never doubted, for whatever reason, that Snape was a bottom, his perfect match. He pushed the thought away, desperate not to hope, knowing that if Snape did not come to room eight Tuesday next, a part of him would die forever.  
  
He took a deep breath of cool night air. He had glimpsed Ron red hair as he passed the main room of the pub. He needed to be with his friends, to distract himself right now. He re-entered the pub, grateful for the noise, the feeling of excitement, the warmth of friendship.  
  
“Harry! Mate! I was hoping you’d come back!” said Ron, not hiding his pleasure at Harry’s presence. Draco, Michael and Ginny had joined Julius and Seamus. Luna and Neville were there as well, talking with Daphne and Astoria Greengrass. Draco looked at him and smiled warmly, and Harry noticed two shots of Firewhisky in front of the blond, both on coasters, and both ignored. As soon as he sat down a butterbeer, also on a coaster, appeared in front of him and Rosmerta said, “From the blue robe at the bar.”  
  
“Take it back, Rosmerta, and say thanks, but no thanks. That goes for the whole evening, actually, though do bring me one I’ll pay for myself, please?”  
  
She gave him a smile that reminded him she knew who had been in room number eight that evening. She looked very happy about his decision not to get together with anyone else that night, though she was bound to have noticed he’d only been gone less than half an hour. He wondered just how close a friend she was to Severus Snape.  
  
When the next shot of Firewhisky was put in front of Draco, Harry pushed all three untouched glasses in front of the blond and asked Draco. “Who are they from?”  
  
“Turpin is the shot without the coaster. The dark haired bloke over there and the short blond bloke at the bar are the other two.” Then he added, making eye contact with Harry, “but I thought I might finish the evening with a friend, instead.”  
  
Harry looked at Draco’s prospects. He didn’t know the blond, but the ‘dark haired bloke’ was Marcus, who smiled at him and shrugged. Harry smiled back at him. “The dark haired bloke’s name is Marcus. He’s very nice.” He looked at Draco. “I mostly came to see Ron, tonight,” he lied. “I’m really tired. I’ll be going to bed as soon as we get back.”  
  
Draco looked in his eyes for a moment, then nodded and downed Marcus’s shot before getting up and heading to the bathroom. Harry caught sight of them walking to the floo a little later. Good. He had no intentions of getting together with anyone that week, as stupid as it may be considering his history with Snape.  
  
He had a great time hanging out with Ron and Hermione. He caught up with the news of the Weasley family. Arthur and Molly had temporarily moved to a large mansion belonging to the Ministry, where the war orphans were housed, while the Burrow was being rebuilt. Molly had accepted an administrative position at the orphanage.  
  
Charlie was bowing to Molly’s pressure to marry and settle down, though to her chagrin, Katarina, his fiancée, was from the village outside the Dragon preserve, and Charlie marrying a native would dash her hopes of him returning home soon. (Harry and Hermione’s eyes met. Hermione, like he did, obviously remembered that Seamus’s _gaydar_ had identified Charlie as being homosexual. Charlie had always seemed to be his own man, and Molly and Arthur were as tolerant a wizarding couple as could be found, and yet… Hermione made a face, half apologetic, half resigned. Harry shrugged his shoulders slightly. He would not lie about his sexual identity, even if it meant alienating his surrogate family. )  
  
Making Molly feel better had been Fleur’s announcement that she was already pregnant again. Victoire was barely three months old! Ginny wondered out loud if Bill was trying to outdo his father.  
  
To Harry’s surprise, Ginny said she and Michael were planning on living at the Burrow with her parents once it was finished, both of them going for their primary school teaching certificate, and planning to teach at the orphanage afterwards. Apparently, Michael did not have much of a family life growing up, and he adored Molly and Arthur. Harry could relate…  
  
The next DADA class was the best Harry had ever had. Yes, it consisted mostly of review with only little practice, in view of the looming NEWTS. But as his classmates bend their heads to their work, Harry met Snape’s eyes, and the man smiled at him, an intimate, sexy kind of smile that Harry had never seen before. It had a very life affirming effect on Harry’s cock. They only looked away from each other when Zabini raised his hand to ask a question. Harry’s heart drummed away against his ribs for the reminder of class, and when Snape asked him to stay back for a few minutes, it threatened to jump out of his chest.  
  
Once all the other students had left, he approached Professor Snape’s desk. The dark eyes met his again, yearning, yearning. Yet, Snape’s voice was cool and even when he spoke.  
  
“Mr. Potter, were it on offer, would you still consider pursuing a Mastery in DADA as my apprentice?”  
  
“Definitely, sir.” Harry felt like jumping for joy, but tried his best to contain himself. He had to make an effort to concentrate when Snape continued.  
  
“Mr. Zabini has expressed a desire in doing the same studying Potions. Were I to accede to both your requests, you would be spending quite a lot of time in his company. Would that be objectionable?”  
  
“No. Blaise seems nice. We are no more than acquaintances, but we have friends in common. I am sure we wouldn’t have any problems getting along.”  
  
“Excellent. I will share my decision to accept mentoring the both of you with the Headmistress this evening. You shall be receiving an official letter of acceptance in the next few days. Good evening, Mr. Potter.” Snape’s gaze was nowhere near as dismissive as his words. Harry could have sworn he felt the heat of it as it roamed his body. When it returned to Harry’s face, he felt himself blushing. Eyes hot, Snape gave him that sexy smile again.  
  
Basking in its warmth, Harry had to work hard to manage an answer. “Thank you for accepting my application. Good evening, Professor.” He stood there an unexpectedly long time before tearing himself away and leaving the classroom.  
  
Harry’s buoyant mood made Hermione smile, though he would not yet share the reason behind it. He was thrilled Snape was no longer planning on leaving Hogwarts, but tried hard not to assume it meant the man he loved would be in room number eight on Tuesday. He wouldn’t risk telling her anything until he had held Snape in his arms again.  
  
The next boost to his optimism came from the most unlikely quarters on Friday evening. Hermione was tutoring younger students in Arithmancy, and the weather was pleasantly mild, so Harry decided to study alone by the lake after Quidditch practice, under the large Oak tree against which he had fucked Angus. He was absorbed in his Transfiguration review when someone sat next to him.  
  
“Hey, Potter. How is it going?” asked Justin Finch-Fletchley.  
  
Harry resisted the urge to drown the other man in the lake and instead answered mildly, “Hi, Fletch. Nice evening, isn’t it?”  
  
Justin smiled. Harry tried to look at him without prejudice. He was very attractive, really. His curls were very cute, his eyes a nice clear blue. He was also tall and well built, his skin golden, and his smile was very white. As he stretched, his t-shirt rode up on a nicely toned stomach.  
  
“Very nice evening. The light is beautiful this time of the year. Transfiguration?”  
  
“Yes. There’s so much of it…”  
  
“I know!” Justin agreed. “Not my favourite, either.” He sighed heavily. “I’m pretty far behind, actually. When Blaise and I were a couple, it was hard to study together, you know. We were easily distracted… And then (as I think only you and Blaise are aware of), I had that fling with Snape.” He rolled his eyes. “He was so into me, wanting me to come around all the time, it ate up all my free evenings. Now I’m working like mad to make up for lost time.” He sighed and added, as if to himself,  
“What a mistake that turned out to be… It cost me the love of my life.”  
  
That, Harry had to hear. “If Blaise was the love of your life, what in Merlin’s sweet Britain possessed you to have an affair with Snape?”  
  
Justin shrugged. “I really like to fuck. More than the average bloke, you know? Blaise knew that, and he knew I really loved him, so he was not bothered when I fucked around. Draco and I fucked pretty much the whole time I was with Blaise, and it’s not as if Blaise didn’t know. They’re best friends!  
  
“Snape offered to loan me a book, and I went by his quarters one evening. I hadn’t fucked for like, two days! Drake had stopped being available because he fell in love with you, and Blaise was busy with an Ancient Rune project. Anyway, I got to Snape’s early, and he’d just had a shower. It was obvious he had just thrown on his robes with nothing under them, and he sported this huge hard on. He saw me looking and parted the robes at the front. He is a fucking ugly git, but he has a magnificent cock. I couldn’t resist. I got on my knees and sucked him off. He said it was the best blowjob he’d ever had, and next thing I knew, he was fucking me on his couch. He is a total top, and such an amazing fuck!”  
  
He was staring Harry in the eye, convinced apparently that it would make him seem more truthful. Even without trying, Harry could see the lies forming in his mind before he spouted them, his constant calculations all but projecting his thoughts.  
  
“I was addicted. And all of a sudden, he wanted more. Exclusivity. I was really stupid, ‘cause I didn’t see it coming: I mean, I was the prettiest thing Snape’d ever had in his bed! He started to get all possessive, wanting me to break up with Blaise, to move in with him. When Blaise asked him for a letter of recommendation to Cambridge, he told him he would only give it to him if Blaise would leave me alone. I had not told Blaise how often I saw Snape, or how possessive Snape had become. He thought I returned Snape’s feelings, that I had not just been fucking around, but having an affair with the ugly old git! He also didn’t take it well when my extra-curricular activities threatened his future…”  
  
Justin was adapting his story to the reaction he thought he could read on Harry’s face. He was a very good liar, embroidering on the truth, bending reality, building his prevarications on actual events. His blue eyes filled with tears.  
  
“No matter what I said, Blaise would not believe that I had not encouraged Snape, that his plans were one sided. Blaise…” He wipes his eyes. “He cut me off. Completely! He won’t even talk to me, even though I immediately ended it with Snape. Snape was jealous of everyone, my friends, my housemates, the other fags in school… but he actually became physically abusive when you walked in on us. He hit me that night. He didn’t want anyone to know he was fucking a student. He didn’t want a relationship of equals, he wanted to own me, to hide me naked in his dungeon at his beck and call. Well, I just will not be someone’s dirty little secret, you know? Now he’ll probably fail me in DADA.” He shook his head, as if struck all over again by the unfairness of it all.  
  
He sighed. “I haven’t had a good shag in days…” He looked at Harry with a coy smile, letting his eyes roam up and down Harry’s body. “You know, with your new clothes, you’re sexy as fuck… Only the Chosen Few know you’re bent, but they can’t stop singing your praises. You’ve taken Hogwarts’ queerdom by storm!” He smiled flirtingly at Harry. “So, anyway, here I was, over there, unable to concentrate on my work, because I am as horny as all get out, and I saw you over here, all alone and gorgeous. How about we take a break?” He very obviously relocated his forming erection to sit more comfortably.  
  
Harry gave him his coldest stare. “I actually avoid fucking pathological liars, because they obviously cannot be trusted,” he said, reading the Hufflepuff’s plans in his eyes as if they’d been written in red ink on his forehead. “And I can only fuck people I trust, because Merlin only knows how much someone might get paid by the Daily Prophet or the Witch Weekly to out me to the public. Less than reliable people might very well be tempted to sell their story.”  
  
He smiled warmly at the worm. “So, Fetch, would you rather I obliviate you from the knowledge that I am queer, or would you prefer to swear a wizard oath to never say anything about it to anyone?”  
  
“What the fuck?” exclaimed Justin, with a perfect imitation of rightful indignation. “Harry! I would never sell you out! Besides, you’ve not asked the other queers in school to swear wizard oaths!”  
  
Harry’s smile turned very cold. “Ah, but you’re a special case, Justin… You see, I am the one who wrote to Severus Snape the notes that you took credit for, and I happen to be in love with him. I will not let you besmirched neither his nor my reputation with the lies you plan to sell to the highest bidder. So, again: your choice. Obliviation, or wizard oath?”  
  
“Fuck you, Potter!” Justin got up, pissed off his plan had failed, and started storming off in the direction of the castle.  
  
Harry pointed his wand at Justin’s retreating back and whispered “Obliviate!” I was not an easy task to successfully cast such a tricky spell without eye contact, and on a moving target to boot. It really wasn’t Harry’s fault _at all_ that Justin not only forgot completely that Harry was gay, but also forgot ever getting anything more from Severus Snape than a dreadfully boring book he had returned the next day. The almost six weeks of nightly visits to the dungeon he now remembered spending reviewing for the NEWTS, and was quite annoyed by how little progress he had made.  
  
Now that Blaise Zabini had broken up with him after finding out about his affair with Draco, he’d have more time to study. Hopefully he would make more serious headways. He needed decent grades to keep his spot in Charms at Cambridge… Maybe he should start studying with Zachariah Smith. His fellow Hufflepuff was a poof too, so he might be able to convince him that fucking was a great study break. Not wasting any time, he turned his steps towards the library, in search of his housemate.  
  
Harry contemplated his action. He had used Legilimency (though really without even trying) on a fellow wizard without his knowledge, and had Obliviated said wizard of his relationship with Severus Snape. He could justify himself by pretending he did not want Justin to ruin Snape’s reputation, but truthfully, he hated the fact that that berk should know what Snape smelled like, tasted like, sounded like during sex and looked like as he came. He also could not stand the worm taking pride in having fooled the most Slytherin of Slytherins for weeks, when in fact he had used a man temporary weakness, brought on by surviving the most traumatic event imaginable, to his advantage.  
  
No matter what spin he put on it, Harry knew his actions had been reprehensible. The fact that no one but himself would ever know he’d abused his magical power actually made it worse. It was shameful and wrong. He swore to himself to never do anything like that again.  
  
Happy with his decision, and philosophically accepting that his remorse regarding his actions towards Justin were probably not quite what they should have been, he returned to his Transfiguration notes. He tried very hard not to think about the implications of Snape throwing the Hufflepuff out on his ear, but failed abysmally. He gave up studying and went to bed, his dream of Severus’ kiss seemingly lasting the entire night.  
  
The next day, he insured a Gryffindor victory over Ravenclaw by catching the snitch under their seeker’s nose. He spent the rest of the day studying Charms with Draco and Hermione, who really got along well these days. Hermione left early to meet Ron, and he and Draco walked around the lake quizzing and teasing each other. It seemed a bit out of the blue when Draco mentioned, “You were right, by the way. Marcus Lestrange is a nice man.”  
  
“Yes. I like him.”  
  
“He said you two wouldn’t see each other again because he was too close to falling for you and because you… you were in love with someone else.” Draco’s silver grey eyes were really quite beautiful. Unique, certainly. “Are you in love, Harry?”  
  
Harry chuckled. “Draco, do you really think I’m stupid enough to give you the ammunition to tease me to death until the end of the year?”  
  
Draco stopped walking. “I wouldn’t tease you. I’m in love too,” he said softly.  
  
Shit. Justin’s words came back to Harry. _“Drake stopped being available because he fell in love with you.”_ It had seemed one lie amongst many. Now, under the silver scrutiny, Harry felt the shadow of a doubt grow in his mind. He and Draco had grown close. He really cared about the blond. Sex between them was very good and full of affection. No! Please Merlin, no. He didn’t want to lose Draco’s friendship, their easy banter.  
  
“Severus Snape,” he blurted out, hoping with all his heart that things would be OK. “I’m in love with Professor Snape.”  
  
Draco bit his lower lip. “I thought so,” he replied calmly. “He is an amazing man, isn’t he? I had a crush on him for years. You know what Harry? I’ve seen him look at you. I think there’s a pretty good chance the feeling is mutual.” Draco smiled at him, a real smile, not even one of his patented smirk.  
Harry was so relieved he felt a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.  
  
“What about you Draco. Who has finally managed to find and take a hold of your elusive heart?”  
  
Draco gave him the strangest look before stating, “I asked Greengrass if I could have my father speak to hers. Astoria. We’ve been talking a lot in the evenings. She is very smart, and funny. Intriguing. She is really down to earth, too.”  
  
Harry never noticed Draco had not actually answered his question. “And so blonde,” he teased.  
  
“Is she? I hadn’t noticed,” lied Draco. They cracked up. Draco added, serious once more, “She had two conditions. One, that after we’re betrothed I never fuck another woman beside herself, and two, even though she doesn’t give a rat’s ass if I continue to fuck men to my heart’s content, that I immediately stop fucking _you_.”  
  
“Me? Why did she single me out?”  
  
“I told you she and I talk a lot. She knows…” Draco blushed, but he went on, ”…how much your friendship means to me, and she can handle that, but she says if she and I are to be a couple, I can only make love to her, and she thinks that’s what you and I do. Make love, you know, not fuck.”  
  
“Oh.” Girls… They were so weird, thought Harry.  
  
“Yeah.” Draco added, “She’s the right one for me, Harry. I can see spending my life with her, and actually being happy to have her for my wife. I can very easily imagine learning to love her. And you love Severus, and I bet you he is not one to share, so… I’m going to agree to her conditions.”  
  
“Draco, you don’t owe me an explanation! I’ve always known you’d get married, and if it can be a love match, Merlin! That’d be wonderful. I want you to be happy. The sex between us is really good, but it’s not what matters to me.” He looked at Draco, joking, but serious. “If her condition was that we’d not be friends anymore though, I’d curse the bint…”  
  
Draco blushed again. “I’d never have agreed to that, Harry.”  
  
“Good. Because that would hurt like a bitch,” admitted Harry.  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Are we gushing?” joked Harry, grinning.  
  
“About how much we value our friendship? Yes. I think we are.”  
  
“Malfoy, you have a shit influence on me.”  
  
“Bullshit. Gryffindors are all sentimental saps. You have a bad influence on me.”  
  
They bumped shoulder, in that way they had, and continued their walk into the warm spring twilight, back to Charms once again.  
  
Harry studied again all of Sunday, to Hermione’s enthusiastic approval. He wanted to do well, not only for himself, but to prove he was worthy of Snape’s decision to apprentice him.  
  
It took a lot of effort, but he managed to pay some attention to his classes on Monday and sleep well that night by studying to exhaustion, but Tuesday was a wash.  
  
He woke up with his pyjamas sticking to his groin _and_ a hard on. Palming his cock through the damp material, he closed his eyes and imagined undoing buttons on Snape’s robes for fifteen seconds before coming again. A week of celibacy and the looks he was getting from Snape were doing him in.  
  
He wanked again in the shower but got hard again at breakfast, watching Snape butter a piece of toast. Oh, for fuck’s sake!  
  
He was completely incapable of following his classes that day, snapping to it only in Transfiguration when McGonagall, annoyed at him, exclaimed, “Mr. Potter! Either you focus on your work, or if you keep being as distracted as a second year before his first Hogsmead visit, I will treat you like one and put you in detention for the evening!”  
  
Grading McGonagall’s first years’ homework until midnight was not an option. He vanished the mittens from his desk, and successfully Tranfigured several additional balls of wool into _K_ ittens, a NEWT level transfiguration and not _M_ ittens, which, after all, even a Muggle with a pair of knitting needles could manage.  
  
“What is with you, today!” exclaimed Hermione as they left the classroom, handing him the book he’d left behind. “Did you not get enough sleep, or what?”  
  
Harry could not help but grin at her. “Or what,” he answered, enigmatically.  
  
“What ‘or what’?” she insisted, baited, jogging a little to keep up with his hurried longer stride.  
  
Noticing, he slowed down to an easier pace and bussed her cheek on the move. “Dunno. I’ve just got a good feeling about today…”  
  
She smiled knowingly. “Does that good feeling have anything to do with a blond formerly known as ‘the ferret’?” she asked.  
  
Harry burst out laughing. It was so rare for her to be wrong. “Draco’s in love with Astoria Greengrass, so… no!”  
  
“Really?” Hermione looked completely shocked. “Boy,” she mumbled, frowning. “I can’t believe I got that wrong. I could have sworn he was head over heels for you!”  
  
Harry did not mention that, quite a few times, Draco had been heels over head for him. He smirked.  
  
“Hey! Is Ron coming to the Three Broomsticks tonight?” he asked.  
  
“No, Why?”  
  
“Uh… I don’t think I’m going to make it. Would have hated missing him.”  
  
“Seamus, Ginny and Michael are going, so I’ll tag along with them. I’m sure others will show. It’s become quite the tradition, hasn’t it? What have you got going?”  
  
What did he have going? A long shower with meticulous scrubbing, a close shave, time wasted trying on who knew how many outfits, rushing to the Broomsticks while everyone was still at dinner, and sitting in room number eight, slowly losing his mind waiting, hoping, despairing, talking to himself, waiting again, trying not to bite his nails… Hopefully, at some point, Severus Snape would make an appearance and put him out of his misery, or at ten-thirty he would leave.  
  
He had decided on ten-thirty as a cut off time, because really, if Snape could not be arsed to show up before that, he obviously did not feel about Harry quite as Harry felt about him, and Harry would not sit there pathetically waiting for him until dawn. He would go down to the pub and join whichever of his friends was still there, and drink the first drink send to him by a stranger, coaster or not, and fuck the rest of the night away.  
  
But Snape would come (and if Harry had his way, come and come and come…). Surely he would. He’d dumped Justin, accepted Harry as an apprentice, burned Harry’s clothes off his body with his eyes, given him these amazing intimate smiles… He was going to be there, Harry was sure of it. Almost. Oh, Merlin! What if he didn’t show? What if…  
  
“Earth to Harry? Hullooooo!”  
  
“Oh. Sorry Hermione. Uh… What?”  
  
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Honestly. You’re pathetic. Will you tell me all about it tomorrow?”  
  
An image of himself pushing his cock slowly into Snape’s glistening hole flashed through his mind and his cock immediately stood at attention.  
  
“Well, maybe not all about it… We’ll see,” he answered, now imagining a heartbreaking note left for him on the desk of room eight, telling him “Thanks, but no thanks”.  
  
He sighed heavily, wondering if he could make it through the evening with his sanity intact. It was his own fault for insisting that Snape consider his decision for a whole week…  
  
Only Charms left to get through.  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
It took only twenty minutes of the Monday morning, 7th year, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff DADA class for Severus to realize Justin Finch-Fletchley had been Obliviated. The young man was paired with Zachariah Smith for duelling, students trying to cast a wordless Expelliarmus. Wordless spellcasting was difficult. Not all wizards were able to do it. Wandless, of course, was only for the very few.  
  
It was interesting that with the same education in DADA, the Gryffindors and Slytherins were generally so much more advanced in the subject than their Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff counterparts. Finch-Fletchley was a case in point. He could cast neither wordless nor wandless. Smith managed to cast the silent spell well enough for Finch-Fletchley’s wand to slip out of his fingers. In contrast, a wordless Experliarmus from Longbottom had send Greengrass flying backwards and fall on her rear-end as her wand spun halfway across the room just two hours before.  
  
Malfoy and Potter had been working at casting it with their back turned away from each other, succeeding brilliantly.  
  
“Professor, I just don’t get it!” Finch-Fletchley said. “Do I say it in my head, think it as loud as I can, or… what?”  
  
He looked genuinely flummoxed, and his appeal for aid had been devoid of anything beside his frustration. When Severus explained to him the concept of ‘intent’, reminding him of the technique used for Apparation, he listened attentively, and nodded in comprehension. His next attempt had Smith’s wand slide slightly forward, and Finch-Fletchley gave Snape a true smile in view of that obvious if small success.  
  
Severus confirmed with a very slight push of Legilimency that Finch-Fletchley viewed him as nothing more than his teacher. Severus did not even question who had so thoroughly and elegantly modified the young man’s memory. He knew of only one person who had the knowledge, the opportunity and the ability to do so.  
Probably the practice as well. Obviously, none of the strangers Harry Potter had sex with on Tuesday nights were aware they had been fucked by the boy who lived, or Potter would have been outed on the front page of the Morning Prophet the next day. Why had he Obliviated Finch-Fletchley?  
  
Severus would have loved nothing more than to do it himself, but his personal ethics had stayed his wand. He had long ago decided to live with his mistakes and their consequences. He also knew, from early experiences, that Obliviating someone would do nothing about his _own_ memories, would therefore not change the opinion of the only person whose judgment really ultimately mattered: himself.  
  
Perhaps Potter had wanted to save Severus the humiliation of having Finch-Fletchley tell the story of how he had fooled the man who had fooled Voldemort. Perhaps he had wanted to save Severus’s reputation, if Finch-Fletchley had intended to let the world know his DADA teacher had had a homosexual relationship with him. Regardless of the reason, and however questionable the action was, the protectiveness it revealed was the most exquisite surprise.  
  
Though he tried not to, Severus could not help but seek eye contact with Potter, again and again, amazed to see the thrill such a contact created in the young man’s eyes every time. Did Harry actually worry there might be a possibility that Severus would not come to their appointment? Had he no clue of the depth of Severus’s feelings? Well, he could not, could he? Judging from their recent past, it would make sense for Harry to be cautious.  
  
Sitting in his reading chair in front of his bedroom’s hearth on Monday night, Severus read Potter’s message again.  
  
 _”Yours, Harry.”_  
  
Only twenty-four hours to go…  
  
Tuesday, Severus cancelled his last class, explaining to his happy students that he had a terrible migraine. He knew he was far too distracted to keep an eye on twenty thirteen year-olds throwing hexes at one another.  
  
Back to his quarters, he soaked in a relaxing bath then washed himself in the shower. He shaved closely and cleaned his teeth conscientiously. He dressed in his best set of robes, though they were cut on the same pattern as all the others. He was very conscious that Harry had exquisite tastes in clothing. Then again, Harry had never seen Severus wear anything different than teaching robes, so surely his wardrobe’s limitations had no bearing on Harry’s feelings.  
  
He had a sudden vision of he and Harry at Mrs. Malkin’s together, choosing clothing for Severus. It was a ridiculously compelling image, doing something so pedestrian with Harry. His fantasies so far had been mostly of them without clothes… Yet, the picture it drew was so appealing. Sharing a life, not just sharing a bed, but also sharing the small daily chores and necessary outings with Harry… Severus was astonished at the strength of his yearning for a future with the young man.  
  
There were still almost forty minutes before dinner. He had planned on leaving immediately afterwards, though Potter usually did not make it to The Three Broomsticks until later, around eight, but he could not stand sitting in the Great Hall, chit-chatting with his fellow teachers this evening. He put his cloak over his shoulders and used his sitting room’s fireplace to floo straight to The Three Broomsticks.  
  
Rosmerta was polishing glasses with a linen cloth, a ridiculous habit since the same glittering transparency could be easily obtained with a Charm, though she insisted that doing it without magic was relaxing. She looked up at him and grinned. Only a few of the tables were occupied this early in the evening.  
  
He went to his usual seat, and she came to stand across the bar from him. She put away her cloth and Transfigured herself a stool from an empty bottle crate. Resting her elbows on the bar and placing her chin on her hands, she teased him.  
  
“Aren’t we eager, this evening.”  
  
Snape could not help but smile. “You have no idea,” he answered honestly.  
  
Sitting straighter, she said affectionately, placing a hand on his, “It’s about time you fell in love, Severus… and I am glad to see you happy about it, and not torn to shreds by it as you were last week.”  
  
“I think perhaps I caught a break, and he did, as well,” he answered, referring to their discussion a week before. “He caught my heart, certainly.”  
  
She patted his hand, chortling, and once again he smiled, though he knew she was laughing at him. “Ah, Severus. I always knew you had it in you!” She laughed some more. “That’s a bold faced lie. You have always been so full of vinegar and piss I’m astonished to find you even have a heart to be caught. I thought you only had a spleen.” She was very pleased with her bon mot.  
  
He took her ribbing in stride. She had been a feature in his life for thirty years, and always had had a smile for him. She was a good friend, and a very beautiful woman. He squinted at her. No trace of Glamour. Her skin was firm and taught, with some lingering of the dewiness of youth. Yet, she had to be fifty at the very least. She did not look a day older than twenty, and never had… The hand on his was also unmarked by time. Why had he never wondered about that before?  
  
He realized she was watching his scrutiny with a smile on her face. “You finally noticed, did you? You know, Albus knew me for almost a hundred years and never caught on. It takes strong magic on your part and a lot of trust on mine for you to have become aware of the resilience of my youth.”  
  
He really wanted to know, but could not figure out how to ask without being rude. She laughed at him for the second time that night, then her hand went right through his, and for a moment he thought he saw the back of the bar through her body.  
  
“Have you ever seen me out of this place, Severus?”  
  
She smiled wistfully. “I was a nineteen year old naïve little barmaid when it happened… This place was owned by a wizard name Gifford, and in those days, working here practically made me part of his property. He’d been pinching my arse everyday as we worked and knocking on my door every night. He laughed with the customers that I was playing hard to get. I was terrified of him, but I had nowhere else to go. My dad was Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts and a widower, and I was the oldest of nine. My family needed the money, so I didn’t dare complain.  
  
“It was expected that I should be willing for Gifford to take me over one of the cask in the back anytime he pleased, then that I would just brush off my skirt and get back to work. He got tired of waiting for me to give him what he wanted, and one night decided to just take it. He’d had the key to my room all along, and he just came in. I woke up with his hand on my mouth as he fumbled with my nightdress. I fought him. I fought him as hard as I could and I never stopped. Not when he ripped my gown, not when his hand slipped from my mouth to my neck in the struggle, not when he tried to pry my legs apart, not when I started seeing stars from the lack of air, not when I felt myself slipping away.”  
  
She wiped a tear. “I saw my mom, then, she was waiting for me in a beautiful place full of twirling magical light, with her sweet smile and her arms open. My gran was there too, and my brother Hamish, as died the year before from Dragon Pox. Still, from far away, I could hear Gifford say, “That a girl, let it happen sweetheart, you’ll like it…” and he felt him put his knees between my legs. Well, dead or alive, I would be damned if I let him get what he wanted! I could feel strong magic in that light beyond, a strange slippery kind of magic. I pulled some to me, as much as I could hold, and with all my might, I used it along with my magic to wish him dead.”  
  
She sighed. “All of a sudden it was dark again, and Gifford’s body was squashing me. I pushed him off with all my might. I smiled, too, because I’d killed him in time. I was still a virgin. After he rolled off my palette, I got my wand from beneath my pillow and got up. I cast Lumos.  
  
“Gifford was dead, all right, down on the floor, red in the face and still holding his cock. I was standing, naked as the day I was born, and in the bed was a very pretty girl with her eyes closed, and her lips blue. Her nightgown was torn and her legs spread, and I realized she was me. I tried to touch her pretty hair, but my hand went right through her, and my wand fell through my fingers. I could see through myself…  
  
“I was a ghost. But I’d pushed Gifford off! And I’d held my wand and done magic! I felt inside for my magic, but it was gone… That strange slippery magic I’d stolen from Heaven was still there, though. I called on it, and I was solid again. I bend down and picked-up my wand. I could hold it again.  
  
“By moonlight, I cast spells to bury the pretty girl under the strawberry patch, wrapped in my sheet. The slippery magic was strong, and I was getting used to it. I put Gifford in an empty cask, and sealed the lid. Hogsmead was small then, just a dirt path with a few buildings, and the pub’s property went as far back as the river, and as far forward as where Honeydukes stands now. I rolled the cask to the river, rolled it in. I did not feel the cold of the water. It was high with the spring thaw. Suddenly I felt as if I could go no further. I was in the middle of the river, and I let the cask go. Might have gone to the sea for all I know. Gifford was never found.  
  
“I realized I’d reached the edge of the property. I walked its borders. I could not cross them. I was meant to haunt The Three Broomsticks and nowhere else, and to this day, the limits of my haunting remain the borders of that original property, almost twelve acres in all. When they retraced and paved the road, two hundred years later, they brought it to my front steps, so I can walk across it, and into Honeydukes, as far as the chocolate display. I can look in the windows of Zonko’s on the right, and go as far as the crossroad on the left. Through the back door of the pub, I can walk the alley all the way to the Mead and along it, from the bridge to the cemetery.  
  
“The next morning I opened as usual, and when asked, I said Gifford had gotten an owl in the night from the head of his clan, summoning him home, and had left in a rush, not sure when he’d be back. Well, Gifford had come north to get away from the constant border wars with the English. He was from the clan Hay, all the way south in Berwick, on the North Sea coast.  
  
“There was no floo network then, and portkeys were not invented for another hundred years, so travelling was all Apparation or Muggle transport. The average uneducated wizard like Gifford could not Apparate much further than ten miles, and there were no Apparation coordinates to go by. A lot of the clans were feuding; you could not just pop up anywhere you pleased. At best, it would have taken him a month to get there and a month to return once his clan chief released him. He would have been gone a long time.  
  
“After a while, I noticed I could make people forget to ask about him. After a year, he was rarely mentioned. Another year and people hardly remembered him at all. Then the old ones died, and the young ones had only just known me, and seemed oblivious to my permanent youth. The Three Broomsticks has been mine for near to four hundred years now. The village grew, was partially burned to the ground and rebuilt. I had The Three Broomsticks enlarged and modernized and remodelled many times.  
  
“I see the students come and go, I live the dramas of Hogwarts through their tales and those of their Professors.” She grinned. “I’ve been the first crush of generations of young wizards, and I can trace families back through my memories. I would not have it any other way. I still cannot believe that Malfoy boy had the nerve to Imperius me…” She chuckled. “When I think that six generations ago I’m the one who introduced his blue eyed, dishwater blond namesake to the beautiful Moira Frasier of Lovat, she of the silvery eyes and platinum hair! And that’s how he repays me for his gorgeous looks. Ungrateful imp! Well, he did apologize to me very prettily after the war.”  
  
She smiled sweetly at Severus. “You will forget to remember any of this, you know. But I am glad you were one of the few who ever knew my story. I’ve always had a sweet spot for you, Severus.”  
  
She looked outside. “It’s getting on.” She pulled the key to room number eight from her apron pocket, and handed it to him. “Love him well, Severus. He has needed to be loved all his life.”  
  
Rosmerta was a ghost! Severus made his way up the stairs to the room. He was glad she had enthralled him with her tale. It had prevented him from going insane while waiting for Potter. Room number eight looked quite different than the last time he was in it. There was a roaring fire in the grate, so it was pleasantly warm. It also smelled fresh and green from several small bouquets of honeysuckle, and was softly illuminated by long, thin white tapers. The large four-poster was made up with crisp white sheets, a beautiful indigo duvet, bolsters and pillows.  
  
Severus removed his cloak, placing it on a hook behind the door. He resisted the impulse to go to the en suite and check his appearance, sitting down in the high back reading chair that faced the hearth and thinking back to his conversation with Rosmerta instead. Hmm… He recalled it had been quite fascinating.  
But what had they been talking about?  
  


_-_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
Dinner was in full swing in the great hall when Harry left. It always felt strangely lonely to hear the din of it from the outside. He walked leisurely. He did not want to get there hot and sweaty from having rushed. Even if Snape used the floo immediately after dinner, Harry had a good half an hour to get to the pub, more than enough time. Truly, he did not expect Snape before eight, at the earliest, since he’d have gone to dinner right after his last class, and probably would want to bathe before leaving.  
  
At the pub, a few of the tables were occupied already, and Rosmerta was serving her delicious chicken potpie for dinner. Harry would ordinarily have loved a slice, but his stomach was on strike at the moment, protesting the cavalier way Harry was risking his heart. His lungs were in on the protest too, judging by how hard it seemed to be to get a full breath.  
  
Rosmerta grinned at him, and taking it out of her apron pocket, threw a key to Harry. He snatched it with ease. Number eight. His usual room. He grinned back at her and, on the way, hung his cloak on one of the hooks by the gents, with a sticking charm on it so it would not be taken home by someone else by mistake. He made his way up the stairs, unlocked the door and entered, a bit surprised by the décor.  
  
It was quite warm in there, and it smelled lovely. The thick curtains were closed on the twilight, and thin candles, placed all over, created a warm, soft light. He smiled to himself. Rosmerta too thought that Snape would come. He was too nervous to sit on the deep chair by the fire, which back was to him.  
  
Instead, he walked to the window and parted the drapes, trying to distract himself with the view of hustle and bustle of the small town. He loved Hogsmead.  


_-_-_-_-_-_-_

  
  
Severus had hardly begun to wonder why he could not, for the life of him, recall his and Rosmerta’s conversation, when he heard footsteps in the corridor. Was it Harry? Severus held his breath. The footsteps stopped and a key was placed in the lock. Harry was here… The door opened and he stepped in.  
There was no mistaking that magical energy. Severus irrationally thought that Harry would undoubtedly hear his frantically beating heart. He should stand to welcome him but instead stayed frozen in his chair, overwhelmed by a mixture of excitement and anticipation, as if standing on the edge of a cliff, ready for the heart stopping freefall dive into the ocean far below.  
  
It was strange to be so fully conscious of the significance of a particular event in one’s life. Harry’s and his meeting, on this day, at this time, in this room, would be a pivotal, defining moment for him. He got up, silent as a cat, completely mentally and emotionally aware, savouring the present has never before.  
  
Harry was peeking at the street below through the curtains. Severus smiled. Though it was to be their first encounter, he felt none of the tentativeness one usually feels with a new lover. He knew, without question, how much Harry loved him, wanted him, and he trusted him completely.  
  
 _Yours_ , Harry’s note had said, and he did not doubt that for an instant.  
  
Without a sound, he stepped behind Harry and without warning, wrapped him in his arms, depositing a kiss on his temple. Harry showed no surprise, no alarm, but instead immediately relaxed in his embrace and said, a smile in his voice, “You’re here.”  
  
He turned in Severus’s grasp and faced him, letting the curtains drop back over the outside world. His smile illuminated his face, his green eyes glowing warm and soft. “You came.”  
  
“I wish I had never given you cause to imagine it might be otherwise.”  
  
Severus swept Harry’s rebel fringe back from his face. “I love you, Harry. I have loved you far longer than is appropriate, given your youth.”  
  
Harry hugged him tightly, his face buried against his scarred neck, sighing in relief.  
  
“Thank you,” he whispered.  
  
Severus chortled. “Yes, you should be ever so grateful to be loved by an ugly, cantankerous and bitter old man, for you, as a powerful, brilliant and gorgeous youth, have really so little to offer.”  
  
Harry looked up at him and grinned. “Don’t you dare make fun of the man I love. He is powerful too, and he defines brilliance. And wrapped in darkness, his severe features, his intense presence, his graceful strength are as beautiful as the night.”  
  
Severus raised a teasing eyebrow. “How very poetic. You are obviously blinded by your infatuation, Potter.”  
  
“Quite the opposite. It’s because I love you that see you as you really are.” Harry placed his palm on Severus’s cheek “And what I see is a man I want to share my life with. A man to make love to, to speak with of important and trivial matters, to seek counsel from, to lean on when I need strength and to support in his challenges, to wake up with everyday, to share a meal, a walk, a book with, to fight with and to make up with, and to grow old with. Are you that man, Severus? Am I that man to you?”  
  
Severus was overwhelmed. With his response, Harry was giving him everything he had ever hoped for. He recalled Septima’s words, months ago, _”Nothing in this world beats the happiness of loving and being loved in return. Nothing compares to a smile from the man you love and nothing is more pleasurable than a good shag.”_  
  
Was he that man? Was Harry that man to him?  
  
“Yes, Harry. Yes to both, undoubtedly.” He was rewarded again by one of Harry’s beautiful smiles. Then Harry reached a hand behind his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. It didn’t matter that Severus was a half a foot taller, twenty pounds heavier and twenty years older: There was no doubt who commanded that kiss. Harry possessive mouth took his as a land conquered, invading it with a soft yet demanding tongue and a satisfied purr that might have even been a growl.  
  
Severus found himself being pushed relentlessly to the bed, until the mattress hit the back of his knees and he was toppled on top of it. By the time his back hit the duvet, it was naked, as was the young man climbing on top of him, pinning him down. Severus’s heart was beating hard, Harry’s dominating nature an amazing turn on.  
  
“I want to see you,” whispered Harry. One last caress to his cheek with burning eyes and he got on his knees next to Severus’s reclined body and looked his fill. Severus was suddenly very conscious of his thirty-nine years, of the spells, the beatings and the abuse, which had left their marks on his body, of how little he had ever cared about his appearance, of how pale and bony and imperfect his body was.  
  
Yet, as his eyes surveyed Severus’s long, thin and scarred form, Harry’s gaze was warm and full of desire. Harry’s cock, which had risen eagerly while they kissed, grew to a full erection, a shiny drop of slickness pearling at the tip.  
  
“You are beautiful.”  
  
Severus was about to refute the blatant falsehood when Harry ran his hand along the skin of his torso with such worshipful reverence, his eyes so full of appreciative wonder that he realized Harry meant what he’d said. He did think Severus beautiful; and suddenly, basking in that admiration, Severus could not help but feel that way.  
  
Harry’s eyes met his, and the younger man blushed. “I want you so much. I don’t even know where to start…”  
  
Feeling bold, Severus brought his feet to lie flat on the bed and let his knees fall open.  
  
“Oh, fuck,” Harry said with feeling.  
  
“Yes, please,” quipped Severus, his own cock so hard it pulsed with every heartbeat.  
  
Harry laughed and met his eyes. “All in good time,” he answered. Then he bent over Severus’s body and nuzzled the base of his cock. “Oh, Merlin! You smell so fucking good. Move up!”  
  
Severus’s body moved before he even processed the request, scrambling back to lie with his head on a pillow. Harry kneeled between his legs and placed a bolster under his hips. “Hold your knees back.” Was it Harry’s clear assumption of immediate compliance that made Severus so obedient? Here he was, exposing himself shamelessly to him, and completely aroused by it.  
  
Harry caressed the inside of his thigh, his heavy balls, the underside of his cock. He brought his right index finger to his mouth and sucked on it, his eyes never leaving Severus’s cock and ass, and then, without hesitation, slipped it in Severus’s anus, watching it disappear inside him, licking his lips, owning him. He looked up to Severus’s face and smiled. “You’re mine,” he said, “all mine,” and Severus could not have agreed more.  
  
And with no further ado, putting his shoulders under Severus’s upper thighs, Harry replaced his fingers with his tongue and Severus thought he was going to come right then and there. Instead, precum welled out of his cock, and he moaned helplessly, as Harry’s moist burning tongue rimmed him within an inch of insanity.  
  
He knew he was letting more sounds escape from his lips than he ever had before, and that soon he was actually begging shamelessly, but he could not be bothered to care. One of Harry’s hands came to his cock, the other played with his nipples and that tongue… Merlin’s balls, that tongue was doing incredibly, disgustingly, amazingly pleasurable things in his asshole and he helplessly came, screaming incoherently, just pumping cum in that knowing palm, almost sure he was dying and not caring _at all_.  
  
“Hmm… You taste as good as you smell…” said Harry, wiping his face on the duvet. Severus could only look at him in helpless wonder. He was completely at Harry’s mercy. He would have done anything, said anything to remain the focus of his attention, because he had never, never felt the kind of wild joyful abandon he felt at that moment.  
  
The most incredible thing was that the continued burning desire in Harry’s eyes proclaimed Severus needn’t do anything , that Harry felt he was the one granted the most exquisite of gifts. Harry started licking cum off of Severus’s belly while fingering his arse, stretching him, looking at him all the while, his eyes darkened by arousal. Taking the softened cock in his mouth, he bathed it in wetness and warmth, and soon, Severus could feel blood rushing that way again.  
  
Harry sat back on his haunches, Severus’s calves sliding to his shoulders. He smiled at Severus, a sexy, predatory smile. “I’m going to fuck you now. I’m going to push my cock up your arse.” Severus wanted it so badly, his body was trembling.  
  
He felt Harry’s hot, hard cock pushing against his hole but hardly noticed the burning stretch of penetration so enthralled was he by the look of wonder on Harry’s face. Harry was closing his eyes and breathing hard, hissing in pleasure, “Oh, fuck, oh fuck, t’so good! All tight and hot, and moist and… velvet silk.” He opened his eyes once he was fully sheathed. “Severus… Oh, god! You… I’m… I love you! So fucking much! And now… I’m inside! Inside you!” He whispered “You’re mine.” He moved back a little, and pushed forward as far as he could go. He was looking intently in Severus’s eyes when he repeated,  
“Mine!”  
  
He was so beautiful, his taut body shivering, his face suffused with a warm glow.  
  
“Yes,” answered Severus, offering himself, his body, his heart in complete surrender. “Yours…”  
  
Harry threw back his head and groaned. The cock stretching Severus’s arse pulsed and he felt the warmth of Harry’s ejaculate deep inside him. “Oh, yeah…” Harry looked down at him again and smiled with satisfaction. “All mine…” Then he started to move.  
  
His cock never softened. He just fucked Severus as if he’d not just come, his motions sure, long and precise. His cock found Severus’s prostate and he smiled wickedly as Severus cried out in pleasure. It was so good!  
  
“Do you want it hard… or soft?... long… or short… slow… or fast??” Harry was in full control now, his motions eliciting waves of intense delight.  
  
“Yes!” cried Severus, just wanting the pleasure to go on and on.  
  
Harry laughed. His cock was sliding deliciously in and out of Severus, a cock with a large head that stretched Severus’s hole wide open and milked pleasure out of his prostate like no one had ever done before. Severus pushed back against that amazing cock, wanting more, wanting it faster and harder, and his wish was immediately fulfilled. All the while a slick hand massaged his cock and balls better than he could do himself. For what seemed like forever, he was suspended in a state of infinite bliss, with not a coherent thought in his mind, that is, until Harry bent down, licked his neck and ordered, “Come for me!”.  
  
Severus quickly obeyed, crying out and seeing stars as pulsing pleasure emptied his whole body out of his cock and mercifully everything went black, somehow allowing his completely blown brain to restart.  
  
When he came to, the room was almost dark. The only illumination was the warm orange glow of the fire’s ambers. He sighed as he realized he’d been awakened by a wave of intense pleasure and looked down to see his cock disappear fully into Harry’s mouth. That sight, and the amazing sensations created brought him to full consciousness.  
  
Oh, dear Merlin, Harry was making love to him and it wasn’t a dream. Harry had completely taken possession of his body, had… loved him into oblivion, and was again creating sensations Severus had not even known himself capable of feeling. The panting and the cries he had been hearing as he regained his senses came from him. Already, his balls were tightening to his body, his heart drumming and his toes curling.  
  
“Harry, oh!...”  
  
He tried in vain to hold back his orgasm, but his body would have none of it, loving the hot wet mouth, the playful tongue, the tight moist lips around his shaft. When Harry squeezed the head of Severus’s cock against his palate while swiping his tongue repeatedly just beneath the rim, he was carried over, and came and came and came.  
  
Harry crawled up his body until his head was on Severus’s shoulder. Severus looked at him and smiled. “I never want to leave this bed.”  
  
Harry chortled. “I wouldn’t mind fucking you in that chair over there, or in the shower, or outside under the stars…”  
  
Severus laughed as well. “Excellent point.”  
  
“Thank you.” Harry stomach growled. “And evidently, I will also have to get some sustenance to be able to give your body the attention it deserves.”  
  
“Another good point. Sadly, I believe it is rather late, and that you may have to wait until morning for that”  
  
Harry’s wand flew from somewhere on the floor to his extended hand, and he cast “Tempus”. It was ten after two. “Hm. It is later than I thought. I didn’t realize I had slept quite so long,” he commented. He raised his head from Severus’s chest and added, “I woke up a couple of times, and each time, I was so incredibly grateful that I was really waking up in your arms, that last night hadn’t been a dream. I wish I never had to wake up alone again.”  
  
Severus rolled to his side, so they faced one another. He brought his hand to Harry’s face and combed his fringe back with his fingers.  
  
“Once you no longer have to live in the dorms, there are ways for us to be discreet so that might make that possible. As my apprentice, you should have rooms large enough that they have a fully functional floo.”  
  
“I didn’t realize there were set rules restricting relationships between apprentices and their Masters. After all, even relationships between students and teachers are allowed, as long as the student is of age and they conduct themselves with a modicum of circumspection.”  
  
“You are right. There are no such rules. But Harry, certainly you are aware that the wizarding world strongly disapprove of homosexuality. Being single, would you choose to remain so, would already make it more difficult for you to achieve a position of authority and leadership. Being openly homosexual would result in you being severely ostracised, I’m afraid.”  
  
“ _Would I choose to remain single?_ Are you serious? Do you really think, feeling the way I feel about you, that I would consider even for an instant attaching myself to anyone else? What, are you intending on marrying, so you can gain society’s approval?”  
  
Severus snorted. “Oh, I believe it’s too late for me. I might be considered a war hero, but I doubt my rather… colourful past and my well known charming nature would bring many candidates were I to wish to do so. Besides, I do not have to worry about people questioning my sexuality. Being a mean tempered bastard is generally accepted as being reason enough for my being unmarried.” He caressed Harry’s lower lip with the pad of his index finger. “But you, Harry, have your future ahead of you. In the long term…”  
  
Harry got off the bed and started pacing. “Severus…” He frowned. “It is all right for me to call you Severus now, isn’t it?”  
  
“I believe my letting you bugger me rather allows it, yes.”  
  
“Good. Severus, then, I am in love with you. I refuse to pretend otherwise. I will not hide my sexuality to follow conventions. I am queer, and have no qualms about anyone knowing it. Hopefully, _’The man who vanquished Voldemort’_ being openly gay will help change wizarding society’s attitude. And if not, they can kiss my arse. I will come out alone if I need to.” He stopped his pacing. “But I would much rather not hide our relationship. Are you telling me that you would want to be known as, I don’t know, my mentor? My close friend? But not my lover?”  
  
Severus had been admiring the warm glow of the embers on his young lover’s body, the feline grace of his walk, the delicious pendulum motion of his cock as he walked. Fuck, he wanted that cock in his arse again. He would never get enough of Harry. He smiled. “Come back to bed, Harry. Please.”  
  
Harry reluctantly lay next to him. Severus chuckled. “Do you know how happy you have just made me? I was ready to be philosophical about this, to resign myself to the inevitable. I did not even let myself think about it. You marrying a witch… Having to watch someone else sharing your life, even if superficially, having you attend public functions with Miss Weasley or whomever else on your arm…” He closed his eyes at the intense unhappiness that thought provoked. “I would have hated it, but I love you more, and would have accepted it. But Harry, I couldn’t care less about public opinion. Were you to acknowledge our relationship publicly, I would proudly stand at your side.” He caressed Harry’s face again, loving the joy he could see in his eyes. He added softly, “I am in love with you too.” It was so amazing to be able to say those words, to even think them. Harry loved him, loved him enough to be willing to accept public scorn on his behalf. It was truly amazing.  
  
He ran his hand along Harry’s shoulder and arm, and could feel his arousal intensifying. He paid it no attention. He had never spoken with Finch-Fletchley, had let sex (‘Chitty sex at that!’ Merlin! Was that still Draco’s voice?) be the sum total of their connection. He had been only too aware, if accepting, of the young man’s limitations. But Harry… Harry was so much more than just his lover ( ‘an extraordinary lover, a passionate, attentive, accomplished lover’ whispered Draco, and Severus felt a twinge of ridiculous jealousy that the owner of his inner voice would actually know this to be the case…). He wanted Harry to be his partner in everyway, he wanted them to talk, and share every aspect of their lives.  
  
“There are no written laws against same sex relationship. Only public denunciation, which to me matters not at all. I do not doubt the support of my friends, and I know you have the support of yours… They have provided cover for your participation in Tuesday dalliances all year, have they not? I however would not want Minerva to have to bear the outcry from parents were it to be known she allowed a ‘sexual deviant’ to teach at Hogwarts and I would remain discreet for her sake while I retain a teaching position. After that, we are both certainly wealthy enough not to have to care about public disapproval.” He grinned and added, “They can kiss both our arses.”  
  
Harry chuckled and said, tongue in cheek. “I’m afraid I am pretty possessive of your arse. No one is allowed to kiss it but me. And speaking of kissing it…”  
  
When they came out of the shower, it was nearing five o’clock in the morning. They crawled back in bed.  
  
“Are you sore?” asked Harry. They had fucked twice more. Once with Severus on his hands and knees, and once again face to face with his long legs around Harry’s middle, crossed at the ankles.  
  
“Pleasantly so. And absolutely willing again, if you are able, though for my full participation, we may have to wait a little while. Sadly, I am no longer nineteen.”  
  
Harry grinned. “You may have a longer refractory period, but I need more sleep. So it works out.”  
Severus wrapped him in his arms, spooning him closely. Harry sighed. “I never want to sleep alone again,” he said.  
  
“You will only have to for a few more weeks.”  
  
“Not every night. The returning seventh year student’s dorms are not monitored. We have no curfew. It was Professor McGonagall’s only allowance to us.”  
  
Severus was quiet for a few minutes. “Hm… Though it makes me very happy, I do not want to think of how many times you took advantage of that laxity.”  
  
He could hear Harry’s smile in his voice as he answered. “You’re jealous. And I love it… I took advantage of that laxity many, many times. When the time came for me to make love to you, I didn’t want to be a bumbling fool. I wanted it to be so good, you would never want anyone else.”  
  
“You certainly succeeded at that. And I guess I do not care, as long as you now consider your basic training complete, and allow only myself as a tutor should you endeavour to further your education, though after last night’s demonstration of your talents, I do not think there is much more I could teach you.”  
  
He held Harry tighter for a moment, and added, in a soft tone, “You are the best lover I ever had. But I do not think it is your flawless technique that makes you so. I believe it is the love I feel in every one of your caress.”  
  
Harry kissed his arm in response and was quiet long enough Severus thought he was asleep. But then he said, very quietly, “Severus?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“I… There is something. Hm. There is something you could teach me if you wanted to. I… I’ve always… Well, I’ve never…”  
  
Severus wondered what Harry was trying to say, and then it dawned on him. “You have only topped? Never bottomed?” Severus’s heart drummed in his chest.  
  
“Right.”  
  
“Were you so adverse to it? How could you know you would not like it if you never tried?”  
  
“I think I have a bit of a dominant streak anyway, but, well, I wanted to keep something. For you. If we ever became lovers. Something that would be yours only. If you ever wanted it.”  
  
Severus backed away, so Harry would lay on his back and he could see him.  
  
“Did you save that for your first true lover, or did you save it…”  
  
“For you. I never considered anyone else. Well, except for last night, if you had not come. But I don’t know if I would have gone through with it. I think somehow, I might have kept hoping…”  
  
Severus was amazed at how very aroused the idea of being the first to initiate Harry to the pleasure of receiving instead of giving made him. He was suddenly so hard. “Oh, Harry. I… I do not often top, but, Merlin, I want to right now. Except for wanting you to take me, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything quite so badly. Would it be…”  
  
Harry smiled at him, took Severus’s hand and placed it on his full erection. “Please, Severus. Please show me how good it feels when I take you… Please fuck me.”  
  
Severus took Harry’s lips with a passionate kiss. He was immensely glad that though he preferred the other way around, he knew himself to be quite skilled at this side of the act. Making love to Harry was nothing like fucking Finch-Fletchley. He found himself enthralled with the task, thrilled by every sigh, every moan he provoked while driving Harry to the peak of his arousal. With his lips and fingers, caressing his silken skin, playing with his nipples, he discovered all the secret places that made Harry arch his back and cry out. Opening him with his tongue, his fingers and finally, staring in his eyes as he slowly, slowly pushing himself inside him was the most erotic, the most emotional experience he’d ever had. Harry bit his lips at the invasion, and a sheen of sweat appeared on his skin. But when Severus retreated, and was lucky enough to hit his prostate on first try, Harry said, “Oh!” and then “Oh, yeah,” and then “Oh, fuck! Yeah! Harder! Oh, god, more more! Oh, it’s… ah! Amazing! Oh!...” He was letting out the sexiest sounds, and looking at Severus with such lust and love. Harry wrapped his legs around him and moved his pelvis up to meet every one of Severus’s thrust. His nails were biting in Severus’s shoulders, and it felt so fucking good. Harry tilted his head back, and Severus attacked his neck, sucking at the soft skin at the junction of his neck and ear.  
  
He felt Harry tense, and shudder, a sudden warmth between their stomachs, and he let go as well, as Harry’s muscles pulsed around him, driving him over the edge. He loved Harry so completely. Resting on his elbows, he tried to catch his breath as his heart slowed down to a normal pace, as reality reasserted itself. He gently pulled out of Harry who let out a small whimper.  
  
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, concerned.  
  
“Oh, Merlin no! I just hate to see you go.” He chortled as Severus rolled off of him. “I had no idea… It was… Fingers are not the same. Not the same at all…” He met Severus’s eyes. “Do you think it’s as good when I do it to you as it was for me?”  
  
Severus smiled. “Quite sure, yes. So much so that, however exquisite fucking you was, I still prefer you fucking me.”  
  
“And as exquisite as being fucked by you was, I still prefer fucking you. But I definitely want to do this again, sometime.”  
  
“And we will, I’m sure.”  
  
Harry closed his eyes. “’m tired.”  
  
Relishing his well-fucked exhaustion, Severus smiled as Harry fell asleep wrapped within his tight protective embrace, tucked under his chin and nestled against his body. It was in such contrast to Harry the confident, masterful lover who had fucked him the night before.  
  
Severus chuckled. He reached under the pillow for his wand and cast some cleaning spells, then for good measure sent a Patronus to Minerva. “I apologise for disturbing you so early, Minerva, but I am… indisposed. Would you be so kind as to cancel the third year’s double potions this morning? I am quite sure I will be able to conduct my afternoon classes. Thank you.”  
  
He briefly thought of telling her Harry was equally indisposed, but reconsidered. It would not be the first time Potter skived a class. Perhaps he should give him detention? He fell asleep with a smile on his face and his nose in messy black hair.  
  
  
The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you might have spotted the cameo by Justin Taylor of Queer as Folk, as Hermione’s American cousin, and might have also have noticed Harry occasionally channeling both Brian Kinney, of the same show, and Stuart Alan Jones of its British version.
> 
> There is nothing I find more uplifting than getting a comment on one of my story, even if it's short, and even if the story was posted 50 years ago.
> 
> In this story, I am particularly interested in knowing what you thought of Draco and Harry's relationship, of Rosmerta's story, and of the advice Harry receives from his friends. So , if you have a minute...


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